UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


r^..  i"'  ■  •' 


UNIFORM  WITH  "ARCTIC  SUNBEAMS' 


ORIENT    SUNBEAMS 


From  the  Porte  to  the  Pyramids 

BY  WAY  OF 

PALESTINE 


SAMUEL     S.     COX 


ILLUSTRATED 


rM,..-,„tf'V. 


f    i 


m.i 


Arctic  Sunbeams: 


BROADWAY  TO  THE  BOSPHORUS 


BY    WAY    OF 


THE  NORTH  CAPE 


BY 


SAMUEL  S.  gOX, 


Author  of  "Buckeye  Abroad,"    ''Eight  Years  in  Congress,"  "Winter  Sunbeams,' 
"  Why  wb  Laugh,"  "Free  Land  and  Free  Trade,"  Etc. 


■  Lonely  a  Pine  tree  grand. 

Decked  round  with  ice  and  snow, 
On  far  and  Northern  heights  did  stand. 
He  slept  and  dreamed  and  lo  ! 

A  Palm's  tall  image  bright. 

Into  his  dreams  was  borne, 
That  far,  far  South  on  sun-scorched  height. 

Lonely  and  sad  did  mourn." 

— Heine. 


NEW  YORK 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 

27  AND  2g  West  23D  Street 

18S2 


Copyright, 
By  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS, 


1 


^ow/iU'metiu    o/ 


''4.  #  cJi-u.  @f  <^. 


i'ty.'Z 


NEir   YORK,   APRIL.   iSSz 


Dd16 

V.I 


CONTENTS   OF   VOLUME    1 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Holland — The  People,  -Customs,  Dykes,  Fields,  Streets,  and  Evidences 

of  Industry  and  Thrift — A  Fishing  Village — The  Hague i 


CHAPTER  IL 
Holland — Leyden  and  Haarlem — Aspect  of  the  Archipelago g 

CHAPTER  IH. 

Amsterdam — Its  People,  Industries,  and  Quaint  Customs — A  Visit  to  the 

Palace 24 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Dutch  Pictures,  Farms,  Cheese,  Factories,  and  Bible  House — Opulence 

of  Holland. 34 

CHAPTER  V. 

On  the  Way  to  the  Far  North — From  Holland  to  Denmark,  and  from 

Copenhagen  to  Christiania,  Norway 49 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Norway — The  Ancient  Capital  and  Majestic  Scenery — The  Sun  in  its 
Unsinking  Course  around  the  Horizon — In  the  Old  Capital  of  Lap- 
land      63 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

PAGE 

Within  the  Arctic  Circle — In  Quest  of  the  Midnight  Sim — A  Theatre 
in  Norwegian  Lapland — A  Wedding  in  Tromsoe — The  Eider  Duck 
— Northernmost  City  of  Europe — Off  for  the  Open  Arctic  Sea.  ...     85 

CHAPTER  VHI. 
The  Sun  as  a  Night  Orb — Arctic  Scenes  at  the  Cape lOO 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Returning  from  Lapland — Sunday  Services  within  the  Arctic  Circle — 

A  Fourth  of  July  Celebration — Pictures  of  the  Norwegian  Coast  . .    116 

CHAPTER  X. 

Skeletons  of  Vessels  a  Thousand  Years  Old 134 

CHAPTER  XL 

Mountains  of   Norway — Pilgrimage    to   the   Fosses — The   Glories    and 

Damsels  of  Ringerike 147 

CHAPTER  XH. 

More  Mountain  Experiences — Conservative  Norway — Scholars  and  Dia- 
lects  165 

CHAPTER  XHI. 

Norway — Its  Old  Churches  and  j^sthetics — Laws  and  Manners 178 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
Sweden — Its  Capital,   Museums,  and  Mounds r88 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Land  of  the  Finns — Their  Origin,  Customs,  Manners,  and  Life.. .   204 


CONTENTS.  vii 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

PACE 

The  Land  of  the  Czar — A  Cily  of  Palaces  and  Cluirchcs — Costumes 
and  Customs — The  Mincralogical  Academy — Museum  of  Art — 
Tombs  of  the  Dead  Czars — The  Cossack  of  History 222 

CHAPTER  XVH. 

The  City  of  Palaces — A  Visit  to  the  Churches — The  Spot  where  the 
Czar  was  Killed — The  Great  Monolith,  and  other  Monuments — 
Songs  of  the  Soldiers — Excursions — Laboring  Men  and  Wages.  . . .    244 

CHAPTER  XVHI. 
Lower  Life  in  Russia — Death  and  Life — Birth  and  Burial 255 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Peterhoff — Its  Pleasures  and  Palaces — Its  Regalities  and  Riches 266 

CHAPTER   XX. 

From  St.  Petersburg  to  Moscow — The  Country  between — The  Capi- 
tal of  the  Russian  Greek  Church — John  the  Terrible 287 

CHAPTER  XXL 

In  the  Heart  of  Cathedrals  and  Relics  of  Moscow — Fairs  and  Fighting 

Grounds 296 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Eastern  Church — Its  Architectural  Grandeurs  in  Russia 307 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Leaving   Moscow — On  to  Odessa — Immense    Grain    Fields  and  Long 

Levels — Freedom  of  Trade 317 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Odessa — Out  of  Russia — Steamers    in   Port — Afloat  on  the   Euxine — 

Glimpses  of  the  Bosphorus 333 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

The  North  Cape Frontispiece" 

SCHEVENINGEN  COSTUMES  NEAR  THE  HAGUE 8 

Christian  II.  of  Denmark 56 

Oscar  Hall 62 

Thorghatten,  Coast  of  Norway 74 

Hestmandsoe,  Norway  Fjord 82 

Norwegian  Bride  and  Groom 91 

Carved  Wooden  Hut 160 

honefoss 166 

Hitterdal  Church,  Norway 180 

Belt  Wrestlers 194 

Church  of  St.  Basil,  Moscow 294 

ix 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER. 


THE  countries  through  which  I  have  traveled 
the  past  eight  months,  have  already  been  thor- 
oughly explored.  This  volume,  and  the  one  which 
is  to  follow  ("  From  the  Porte  to  the  Pyramids, 
by  way  of  Palestine"),  pretend  to  no  novelty  in 
research,  description,  or  illustration.  My  humble 
task  is  to  invest  the  scenes  therein  pictured  with 
the  interest  which  the  author  himself  felt.  The 
book  has,  therefore,  the  simple  and  harmless  ego- 
tism of  the  author,  and  not  the  pretension  of  an 
archaeologist  or  discoverer.  The  external  views  are 
referable  to  the  sensations  of  the  writer.  What- 
ever seemed,  and  howsoever  it  seemed,  that  is 
recorded.  Driver  and  dragoman,  camel  and  car, 
fjord  and  mountain,  mosque  and  minster,  ruins  and 
institutions,  are  only  accessories — the  mise  en  scene 
— in  which  the  author  is  the  actor. 

In  a  year  when  such  elaborate  and  graceful  writ- 
ers as  Du  Chaillu  and  Vincent  have  opened  the 
Scandinavian  races  for  the  instruction  of  the  world, 
a  volume  that  presumes  only  to  skim  upon  the 
surface  may  not  take  much  rank  in  literature  ;  but 
it  will,  nevertheless,  be  an  incentive  for  others  to 
follow  with  nicer  heed  and  more  careful  prepara- 
tion, from  the  Polar  circle  to  the  pyramids,  that 
round  of  travel,  as  to  which  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
writer  may  be  pardoned,  even  when  he  aggrandizes 


12  INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER. 

the  objects  of  his  observation  by  his  own  suscepti- 
biHties. 

Some  of  the  scenes  described  have  been  revisited 
after  thirty  years,  and  the  pleasure  of  renewing  under 
new  conditions  and  fresh  auspices  old  memories,  im- 
parted additional  charm  to  the  personal  prospective. 

The  elder  world,  from  the  midnight  sun  to  the 
isles  gilded  by  eternal  summer,  can  never  cease  to 
be  attractive.  How  this  attraction  may  possibly 
be  enhanced,  even  by  the  insignificance  of  per- 
sonal intrusion,  the  volume  itself  may  show. 

This  volume  and  its  successor  comprehend  a 
travel  in  which  some  twelve  different  nationalities 
are  involved  ;  and  each  and  all  of  them  in  process 
of  mutation,  politically,  socially,  morally,  and  relig- 
iously. The  salient  features  of  each  of  these  races, 
as  they  now  appear,  may  be  transferred  to  the  page, 
without  detracting  from  the  high  standard  which 
literature  exacts  of  its  devotees. 

This  book  opens  in  Holland  ;  for  is  not  Holland 
the  vestibule  of  that  active,  fair-haired  race  whose 
enterprises  furnish  material  for  so  much  of  history, 
and  of  whose  achievements,  from  Northern  Africa 
to  Northern  Europe,  civilization  has  made  its  cap- 
ital boast  ?  Through  Holland  and  into  Scandinavia, 
and  thence  into  Finland  and  Russia,  the  door  nat- 
urally, and  I  may  say,  politically,  opened  to  the 
Orient.  Within  its  enchanted  chambers — from 
Constantinople  to  Damascus,  and  from  Damascus 
to  Jerusalem,  and  from  Jerusalem  to  Cairo — how 
pleasant  it  was  to  revel  In  all  the  luxury  of  sentiment ! 

This  circle  makes  up  the  round,  in  which  I  have 
set  what  random  gems  I  found  in  the  dust  of  dead 
empire — gems  already  polished  by  the  attrition  of 
time  and  the  taste  of  accomplished  writers. 


FROM  POLE  TO  PYRAMID. 


CHAPTER    I. 


HOLLAND-THE  PEOPLE,  CUSTOMS,  DYKES,  FIELDS,  STREETS, 
AND  EVIDENCES  OF  INDUSTRY  AND  THRIFT— A  FISHING 
VILLAGE— THE   HAGUE. 


"  In  every  bratich  of  human  industry,  these  republicatis  took  the 

lead. But  the  fotcndatiojt  of  the  national  wealth, 

the  source  of  the  apparently  fabulous  poiver  by  which  the  re- 
public had  at  last  overthrown  her  gigantic  antagonist,  was  the 
ocean." — MOTLEY. 


OUR  first  objective  point  of  travel,  was  the  arctic 
circle  and  the  unsetting  sun.  The  usual  mode 
of  reaching  this  point  is  over  the  North  Sea  from 
Hull,  England  to  Bergen,  Norway.  For  many  rea- 
sons, among  which  comfort  is  not  to  be  despised,  a  land 
route  is  better.  Starting  on  this  route  from  Paris, 
we  halted  on  the  tenth  of  June,  at  the  Hague,  in  Hol- 
land. We  had  a  fortnight  to  spare,  before  taking 
the  steamer  for  the  extreme  north.  Holland  was 
not  the  least  eligible  land  for  its  occupation ;  and  the 
Hague  not  the  least  attractive  capital  for  its  be- 
Q^innino-. 

We  are  apt  to  forget  how  much  North  America 
and  freedom,  owe  to  Holland.  In  the  early  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  Spain  had  a  colony  in 
Florida,  the  English  in  Virginia,  and  the  French  in 
Acadia;  Spain,  however,  had  Mexico  and  Peru,  and 


2  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

her  emperor  had  a  motto  stamped  on  the  coin:  Plus 
Ulti<-a:  At  that  time  ..Spain  held  Holland,  and  con- 
demhe'd'its  'industry "  to '  ^iy  nearly  one  half,  or  two 
out  of  the  five  millions  of  gold-tribute  which  formed 
her  revenues.  The  seventeen  provinces  of  Holland 
had  rescued  the  marsh  from  the  sea,  and  led  in  lib- 
eral trade  and  enlightened  thought,  even  when  in 
durance  to  the  Spanish  power.  Extortion  and  big- 
otry drove  them  to  revolt,  and  kept  the  fires  of  war 
aflame  for  a  century.  Independence  came  after  the 
unequal  struggle,  and  the  "  seven  provinces "  be- 
came an  acknowledged  and  potential  Republic.  Com- 
merce was  the  main  instrument  in  the  struggle.  One 
hundred  thousand  sailors  and  three  thousand  ships 
were  no  mean  resource  in  the  emergency  of  war  or 
the  leadership  in  peace.  How  the  enterprises  of  Hol- 
land prospered,  in  the  discovery  of  new  passages  and 
fresh  fields  of  trade  and  rule,  the  pages  of  her  history 
and  the  galleries  of  her  pictures  show.  What  part 
she  had  in  the  discovery  and  settlement  of  North 
America  is  a  household  story.  Still  it  is  true  that 
Holland  is  not  so  interesting  to  our  people  now  as 
when  Washington  Irving  was  better  read.  Before 
Nieuw  Amsterdam  had  fully  emerged  from  its  Dutch 
chrysalis,  and  when  cabbages  had  political  as  well  as 
social  significance,  Holland  was  a  fruitful  theme  of  lit- 
erary exercise.  Motley  rescued  its  ancestral  and  na- 
tional fame  by  his  splendid  history.  His  effort  vvas 
appreciated  in  Holland ;  for  we  have  just  been  look- 
ing upon  his  pale  portrait  in  the  palace  of  the  Hague, 
where  this  scholarly  republican  appears  alone  amidst 
royal  pictures. 

In  England  the  same  metamorphosis  has  taken 
place.  The  "  Dutchman  King"  is  rarely  referred  to 
as  such,  except  when  an  Orange  riot  or  procession 


HOLLAND.  3 

is  arousing-  dead  hates.  Although  many  ot  the  old 
\  iollandish  names  in  New  York  have  sunk  beneatn 
the  influx  of  immigration  and  the  advancement  of 
the  time,  "Helle-gat,"  "the  Bouwery,"  "  Xieuw 
Jorck,"  and  "  Waal  Street "  remain,  but  with  the 
masses  of  our  people  their  early  history  as  well  as 
their  philology  and  spelling  are  forgotten.  Still,  it 
may  be  asserted  that,  unconsciously,  the  influence  ot 
Dutch  manners,  habits,  laws,  mottoes,  symbols,  and 
civilization  has  still  its  salutary  influence  upon  New 
York  City  and  State.  From  old  Fort  Orange  (Al- 
bany), along  the  meanderings  of  the  Mohawk,  and 
down  the  majestic  Hudson  River,  with  its  Dutch 
name,  the  liberalities  of  trade  and  the  liberty  of  con- 
science went  hand  in  hand,  with  that  honesty  and 
prudence  which  furnish  the  best  basis  of  human  gov- 
ernment and  happiness.  The  burgomaster  is  a  per- 
sonage of  the  past,  but  the  Stuyvesants,  Opdykes, 
Beeckmans,  Van  Vleecks,  De  Vrieses,  De  Peysters, 
Segersons,  and  hundreds  of  Vans  and  Jans  of  high 
and  old  renown  still  help  to  swell  our  City  Directory, 
while  the  sceptre  of  early  enterprise,  which  made 
Manhattan  the  emporium  of  trade,  has  not  yet  de- 
parted. In  our  active  life  names  of  unmistakable 
Dutch  oricrin  are  found  on  the  roster  of  civil  and 
military  affairs,  none  the  less  honored  because  of 
the  lapse  of  time  and  the  ferocity  of  competition. 
Our  streets,  however  dirty,  still  bear  the  names  of 
those  whose  pictures  I  have  seen  in  the  galleries 
of  Leyden,  the  Hague,  and  Haarlem.  Old  syndics 
with  familiar  names  and  faces,  too — admirals  like 
Van  Ness  and  De  Witt,  and  stalwart  burgomasters, 
with  figures  as  full  as  were  their  lives  with  good 
deeds — fairly  speak  from  the  canvas  of  Rembrandt, 
Vandyck,   Teniers,    Rubens,  Jan    Steen,   and    Cuyp 


4  '  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Van  Sutphen's  "  Nederlandes  Practycke "  has 
given  way  to  other  codes,  not  so  simple  and  direct; 
even  as  the  good  vroircu  who  gossipped  with  the 
good  dominie,  has  gone  to  the  rearward.  The 
*'  Stadt  Herberg,"  or  city  tavern  of  the  early  Dutch 
settlers  of  New  York,  gave  way  to  a  city  hall  on 
Pearl  Street,  and  that  hall  to  another  more  beautiful, 
if  not  more  honest.  The  revels  that  were  wont  to 
set  its  old  tables  and  shake  its  old  gables  by  their 
roar  may  be  now  celebrated  at  Delmonico's.  But 
one  thing  remains,  beyond  all  change — the  spirit  of 
enlarged  commerce,  which  had  no  bounds  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century;  the  determined  patriotism  which 
allowed  no  taxation  without  representation,  imported 
from  Holland,  the  inspiring  Federal  principle  which 
came  from  these  lowlands,  that  "  Unity  makes  might" 
— Endraght  inaakt  maght — and  the  religious  freedom 
which,  as  early  as  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, gave  immunity  from  persecution  to  Jews,  Bap- 
tists, Quakers,  and  others  who  were  victims  of  relig- 
ious persecution  in  neighboring  colonies.  But  why 
recount  these  virtues  from  this  standpoint  ?  Why, 
except  that  at  every  turn  here,  in  street  and  palace, 
in  home  and  gallery,  in  garden  and  on  canal,  in  prov- 
ince and  city,  these  elemental  thoughts  are  illustrated 
in  Old  as  they  were  carried  out  in  New  Nederlands  ? 

I  have  visited  many  lands  and  have  studied  the 
constitutions  and  habits  of  diverse  people  from  the 
Orient  to  the  Occident;  but  never  have  I  enjoyed 
more  a  week  of  travel  and  observation  than  this  week 
in  Holland.  Of  course  there  must  be  some  personal 
reason  for  it.  It  is  not  because  of  my  blood  exactly. 
Is  not  my  Christian  name  Hebraic,  my  middle  name 
Celtic? — but  I  am  not  sure  that  my  last  name  is  not 
Dutch.     I  remember  to  have  read  that  some  time  be- 


HOLLAND.  5 

tween  the  years  1 600  and  1 700  there  was  a  terrible 
contest  in  a  New  York  court  between  Mrs.  Geertruycl 
de  Witt,  the  miller's  wife,  and  Mrs.  Anneken  Kocks 
— the  latter  bein<r  accused  of  striking  the  former  and 
calling;'  her  husband  a  cuckoo !  What  there  was  ac- 
tionable in  the  "  call,"  and  whether  this  last  lady 
was  of  akin  to  my  folks,  I  cannot  say,  but  doubtless 
their  descendants  have  long  since  made  it  up  over 
"  schnapps,"  and  I  bear  no  malice  for  the  persecution 
of  my  supposititious  ancestress.  But  I  do  affirm,  on 
authority,  that  my  paternal  grandmother,  of  a  Jersey 
Dutch  locality,  was  nigh  unto  the  Bogarduses,  and, 
consequently,  I  am  one  of  the  thousand  heirs  of  An- 
neke  Jans,  and  one  of  the  owners  of  Trinity  Church 
and  its  beloneines. 

Seriously,  what  an  empire  has  been  created  over 
sea  and  land  by  this  little  tract  of  rescued  country, 
over  most  of  which  I  looked  from  the  steeple  of  an 
old  town  hall  to-day !  One  hundred  by  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles — that  is  all  in  area,  and  a  little  over 
thirteen  thousand  square  miles,  not  as  large  as  some 
of  our  counties;  and  a  population  of  four  millions,  not 
as  much  as  New  York.  I  have  been  in  some  churches 
here  where  the  fioor  is  many  feet  below  the  sea 
level,  and  I  can  see  from  my  window  as  I  write,  the 
artificial  mounds  which  keep  the  sea  from  inundating 
the  smiling  lands.  Everywhere,  too,  are  seen  the  evi- 
dences of  industry,  as  well  upon  the  soil  as  in  the 
making  of  the  network  of  canals.  This  city  is  itself  a 
Venice  of  canals,  only  it  has  what  Venice  has  not — 
splendid  streets  and  avenues.  The  climate  here,  so 
far  as  we  have  experienced,  is  cool  and  moist,  and, 
like  the  Dutch  temperament,  it  is  pretty  steady. 
Each  one  of  the  cities  is  a  model  of  cleanliness, 
which    we    could    not   help    but    notice.     One  town 


6  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

which  we  saw  yesterday  is  so  clean,  or  was,  that 
the  people  require  even  the  king  to  take  off  his  shoes 
before  he  enters,  and  each  householder  has  to  abide 
by  the  same  rule.  The  Dutch  costumes  remain  as 
picturesque  as  when  Wouverman,  Steen,  Gerard 
Douw,  Vandervelve,  and  others  pictured  them  two 
hundred  years  ago,  painting  them  in  all  their  details. 
W' e  could  hardly  keep  our  eyes  from  a  too  forward 
stare  at  the  remarkable  head-dresses  which  we  ob- 
served, especially  at  Scheveningen  and  other  fishing 
villages.  This  head-dress  is  not  confined  to  the 
country,  for  we  have  seen  it  in  the  cafes  and  con- 
certs, and  upon  the  heads  of  fine  ladies  everywhere. 
One  should  not  omit  a  proper  mention  of  these 
"  cuirasses  of  the  head,"  as  our  guide  calls  them. 

We  passed  the  frontier  of  Belgium  and  Holland 
last  Tuesday  at  Rosenthal,  running  through  from 
Paris  to  the  Hague  in  one  day.  There  are  a  hun- 
dred thousand  and  more  of  people  in  the  Hague. 
It  is  near  the  German  Ocean,  to  which  there  is  a 
drive  through  avenues  of  beautiful  trees.  It  is  a  su- 
perb city,  and  is  the  true  capital,  though  the  Amster- 
dam people  only  regard  it  as  the  royal  residence. 
Still,  the  foreign  ministers  are  there,  as  well  as  the 
national  legislature,  and  the  memories  of  the  great 
days  of  Holland  in  the  seventeenth  century  are  here 
perpetuated.  Near  by  the  hotel  where  we  lodge, 
is  a  splendid  forest  of  the  finest  trees.  Tall  oaks, 
lindens,  and  beeches  make  the  wood  almost  dark, 
with  only  occasional  checkered  lights  from  the  sky 
above.  As  we  drive  in  the  morning  under  its  miles 
of  overarching  foliage,  over  elegant  roads,  to  the 
House  in  the  Wood,  the  nightingales  are  singing,  as 
if  evening  were  at  hand.  This  is  a  famous  drive  and 
promenade.     It  reminds  m(i  of  the   splendid  woods 


HOLLAND.  7 

near  the  Alhambra,  on  the  hills  which  rise  above 
Grenada,  except  that  the  Dutch  forest  is  on  a  flat 
level,  and  surrounded  and  bisected  with  canals,  where 
golden  fish  swim  and  the  lazy  swans  and  boats  are 
seen  to  glide.  The  late  queen  lived  in  this  House  in 
the  Wood.  It  is  full  of  gems  of  art  of  all  kinds,  witli 
characteristic  paintings.  It  has  one  superb  chamber, 
specially  painted  to  celebrate  the  life,  from  his  birth  to 
his  marriage,  and  even  to  his  death,  of  Frederick  Hen- 
ry, the  king  of  the  best  days  of  Holland.  The  rooms, 
with  their  Chinese  and  Japanese  decorations,  remind 
one  of  the  time  when,  before  American  or  English  ven- 
tures into  far-off  Cathay,  the  Dutch  had  the  monopoly 
of  the  spice,  coffee,  tea,  and  silk  trade  of  the  far  East. 

As  we  drive  about  these  roads  in  the  wood  we  meet 
by  day  but  few  people;  now  and  then  a  black-dressed 
hussar,  or  a  Boer  (a  peasant),  now  a  famous  word  in  the 
vocabulary  of  heroism,  who  with  his  wooden  shoe — or 
klump — goes  awkwardly  about  his  daily  routine  of  la- 
bor. Here  and  there,  we  hear  the  dissonant  voice  of 
the  rook,  high  up  in  the  trees  above.  I  suppose  they 
are  rooks,  though  our  guide  called  them  "  wood-crows." 
In  the  evenincr  we  are  invited  to  a  concert  pfiven  for  a 
charitable  purpose,  at  the  cafe  in  the  woods.  Here 
we  see  some  10,000  people  in  and  out  of  the  enclos- 
ure, and  witness  the  rapture  with  which  these  austere 
Hollanders  welcome  the  choicest  music. 

Before  leaving  the  Hague  we  visited  the  fishing 
village  of  Scheveningen.  It  has  about  9,000  inhabi- 
tants. It  is  the  Manhattan  Beach,  Biarritz  or  Brighton 
of  the  gay  Hollanders,  as  well  as  a  fishing  village,  where 
the  ancient  ways  of  the  Dutch  are  preserved.  The 
road  to  it  is  wide.  It  is  paved  with  brick.  The  bricks 
are  hard-burned  and  set  on  edge.  They  make  a  clean 
street.     In  fact  the  road  from  the  Haeue  to  Amster- 


8  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

dam  is  of  brick,  fifty  miles  long,  and  as  perfect  a  piece 
of  work  as  one  could  wish.  A  tramway,  as  well  as 
canal,  runs  from  the  Haofue  to  this  village  of  Sche- 
veningen.  It  has  one  peculiar  historic  event.  It  was 
here  that  Charles  the  Second  embarked  for  England, 
when  Cromwell  was  through  with  his  business. 

This  village  made  me  think  of  the  sumptuous  ho- 
tels and  villas  of  our  Atlantic  coasts.  It  combines 
Long  Island  with  Long  Branch,  both  in  its  sumptuous 
appointments  for  the  summer  season  and  its  cheap 
tariff  of  prices  for  the  poor.  Here  the  costumes  and 
the  klump-shoe  are  in  all  their  perfection  of  oddity,  and 
here  the  nobility  resort  for  comfort  in  the  dog  days. 


SCHEVENINGEN    COSTt.Ml  s,     ;a;AK     THE    HAGUE. 


CHAPTER    II. 

HOLLAND,  LEYDEN,  AND  HAARLEM— ASPECT  OF  THE  ARCHI- 
PELAGO. 

"Napoleon  said  it  was  an  alluvion  of  French  rivers;  atid  with 
this  pretext  he  added  it  to  the  empire.  One  writer  has  defined  ii 
as  a  sort  of  transition  between  land  and  sea.  Another,  as  an  im- 
mense crust  of  earth,  floating  on  the  water.  Others,  a  measure- 
less raft  of  mud  atid  sand;  and  Philip  II.  called  it  the  country 
nearest  to  hell." — Edmondo  DE  Amicis. 

THE  spelling  of  Holland,  sometimes  seems  elabo- 
rate. It  abounds  in  duplicate  vowels,  for  eu- 
phony. Our  ride  to  Leyden  and  Haarlem,  suggests 
three  consonants,  if  not  four  c's — canals,  commerce, 
cattle,  and  cheese;  and  I  might  add  another  letter, 
for  flowers — or  to  be  particular,  tulips.  We  took 
these  cities,  which  the  Spaniards  could  not  do 
three  hundred  years  ago — without  an  effort.  These 
two  sample  cities  are  not  unlike,  and  the  country 
is  monotonous  between  them.  The  waters  of  the 
Atlantic,  coming  through  the  English  Channel,  meet 
those  of  the  North  Sea,  but  in  all  their  conflicts 
they  cannot  overcome  the  western  coast  of  Hol- 
land— if  coast  that  may  be  called  which  is  made 
by  the  hand  of  man  in  piling  up  the  moles  against 
the  inroads  of  the  river  and  sea.  But  even  this 
is  not  a  good  suggestive  description  of  the  labors 
of  the  Hollander.  If  you  will  look  at  the  map, 
you   will   perceive    that    the    rivers   which,   like    the 


10  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Rhine,  have  their  fountains  in  the  high  Alpine  ranges 
of  Europe,  debouch  here.  The  Rhine,  or  "land 
water,"  being  higher  than  this  sea  water,  fills  all  these 
lowlands,  or  would,  but  for  the  forces  which  man 
has  harnessed  to  pump  it  out !  Everywhere  we  see 
windmills  by  the  hundred.  They  are  picturesque. 
They,  like  the  storks,  relieve  the  level  landscape. 
They  are  not  as  useful  as  they  are  beautiful;  nor  as 
useful  now  as  they  used  to  be.  It  has  been  found 
that  steam  power,  being  steadier  than  wind,  is  indis- 
pensable to  the  labor  of  lifting  the  water  from  the 
meadows,  where  it  lies  in  the  thousands  of  artificial 
drains  and  ditches,  into  the  numerous  canals,  by 
which  it  is  borne  to  the  sea,  and  poured  in  at  low 
tide.  Hence,  you  can  see  how  it  is  that  canals  are 
so  easily  made  here;  and  why,  for  navigation  as  well 
as  for  agricultural  purposes,  they  are  a  part  of  Dutch 
prosperity. 

All  the  waters  of  the  Rhine  do  not  reach 
the  sea  from  one  mouth.  If  it  were  so,  Holland 
would  be  under  water.  But,  as  the  Bible  says 
about  the  waters  in  Oriental  lands,  "  The  Lord  di- 
videth  the  waters,  to  prevent  the  overflow  thereof," 
so  as  to  save  the  land  for  other  purposes  than  sea 
bottoms.  A  general  survey  from  an  eminence  of  this 
remarkable  archipelago,  gives  the  effect  more  rather 
of  a  water  view,  with  occasional  flat,  green  spots 
above  the  surface,  and  here  and  there  dotted  with 
beautiful  cities  with  red-tiled  houses  and  pointed 
spires.  Indeed,  as  far  up  as  the  coasts  of  Den- 
mark, the  North  Sea  has  had  a  struggle  with  the 
land,  the  evidence  of  which  is  seen  in  the  canals  as 
far  inland  as  Bremen  and  Hamburg,  including  the 
coasts  of  Schleswig-Holstein  and  Jutland. 

We  go  to  Leyden  first  from  the  Hague — a  short 


//OLf.AXD.  II 

ride  by  rail.  Lc)dcn  has  about  forty  thousand  peo- 
ple. It  is  cut  up  by  the  Rhine  into  islands,  connected 
by  stone  bridi^es.  It  is  hard  to  tell  which  is  river  and 
which  canal,  for  there  is  quiet,  utilized  water  every- 
where. It  was  easy  here  to  surround  the  city  by  a 
moat  against  the  Spanish  attack.  Indeed,  it  is  one 
of  the  heroics  of  these  brave  Dutchmen  many  years 
ago,  related  by  the  muse  of  tradition,  that  a  prince  of 
Orange  relieved  the  siege  of  the  city  by  inundating 
the  country  and  sending  off  the  Spanish  army  to  dry 
and  distant  spots.  Leyden  is  called  the  Dutch  Athens. 
It  is  the  seat  of  Dutch  culture.  It  is  not  so  aesthetic 
as  Boston.  One  cannot  be  transcendental  amidst  the 
lowlands;  and  yet  what  exquisite  pictures  these  early 
Dutch  artists  portrayed,  and  how  the  rich  men  of  later 
times  have  hoarded  them  as  precious  beyond  rubies. 
Leyden  gave  itself  a  good  deal  to  physics.  Its  uni- 
versity, even  now,  shows  many  souvenirs  of  past  suc- 
cesses in  the  inductive  sciences,  and  thither,  on  reach- 
ing the  city,  we  wended  our  way.  Did  not  much  of 
the  splendid  scholarship  and  undaunted  faith  which 
emigrated  to  our  new  world  come  from  this  honored 
school?  What  was  it  in  our  old  city  oi  Nieuw  Ain- 
sterdani  that  tamed  the  roysterers  and  swash-bucklers, 
and  eave  erace  and  goodness  to  those  early  colonial 
years  ?  Is  proof  wanted  as  to  how  much  we  owe  to 
Leyden  University  ?  Is  it  not  recorded  and  verified, 
that  the  best  of  the  Dutch  clergy  were  of  Leyden,  and 
setded  in  New  Netherlands?  Were  they  not  trained 
in  these  very  walls  ?  How  odd  it  is  that  so  many  of 
these  scholars  dropped  their  Dutch  names  to  take 
upon  themselves  Latinized  names  ?  There  was  Car- 
olius  Curtius,  who  had  such  a  fine  classical  school  in 
Niciiw  Amsterdam  that  pupils  came  to  it,  from  Al- 
bany (Port  Orange),  Delaware,  and  Virginia.     Not  to 


12  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

speak  of  the  Doctors  of  Divinity — what  a  corps  of 
medical  men  came  out  of  Leyden  to  cure  the  diseases 
of  early  N'iciiw  Amsterdam  !  There  was  Jan  Croon, 
Vander  Bogaert,  Aldart  Swarthout,  Jacob  Hendrick- 
son,  and  other  names  familiar  to  my  own  first  "Jersey 
Dutch"  constituency,  when  I  represented  the  West 
side.  Under  such  recollections,  Leyden  is  not  to  be 
despised  as  a  nursery  of  New  York,  Medicine  was 
not  the  only  science  of  Leyden.  Many  a  Leyden  jar 
has  been  broken  by  experiments  in  the  laboratory  of 
science,  and  many  a  joke  cracked  at  the  expense  of 
Leyden  professors.  Indeed,  the  first  object  we  see 
on  enterincr  the  ancient  colleofe  is  a  arim  charcoal 
sketch  upon  the  walls  as  we  go  up  the  stairs  to  the 
hall  of  examination.  It  is  not  in  the  highest  style  of 
Dutch  art,  but  it  seems  to  show  that  the  old  sense 
of  fun  which  made  these  walls  ring  when  the  Rip  Van 
Winkles  were  at  their  schnapps  hundreds  of  years  ago, 
still  remains.  This  picture  is  entitled  "  The  Grade  to 
Parnassus."  The  first  personage  is  a  fat  professor, 
with  arms  raised,  blessing  a  callow  youth  just  matric- 
ulated. Then  there  is  a  quotation  on  the  door  of  ex- 
amination from  Dante,  indicating  that  he  who  enters 
here  leaves  hope  without.  Then,  there  are  pictures 
of  two  students,  one  in  the  vocative,  for  has  he  not 
failed  ? — the  other  hilarious,  for  he  has  succeeded. 
Then  the  successful  one  is  seen  rushino-  homeward  to 
meet  his  happy  "  fader  und  mudder,"  who  also  rush 
with  outstretched  arms  to  greet  him ;  but  just  there  a 
bear  (the  name  for  the  "  fees  "  of  study)  intervenes  to 
dampen  the  joy;  and  so  on,  with  much  of  that  lively 
and  homely  wit  for  which  the  Dutch  school  in  paint- 
ing is  famous,  and  for  which  Jan  Steen  is  celebrated. 
Connected  with  the  university  is  a  garden  where  all 
the  flowers  and  plants  which  Holland  gathers  from 


HOLLAND.  13 

her  possessions  are  to  be  found.  Java,  Sumatra, 
and  Japan  are  represented.  The  grounds  are  beau- 
tiful. The  trees  and  shrubs  are  in  flower.  The  dark 
red  beech,  in  fact,  beeches  of  every  kind — a  classic 
tree,  under  which  these  scholars  repose — are  here. 
Some  are  drooping  in  willowy  grace.  Here  and  there 
are  busts  of  professors  of  note,  and  among  them  the 
learned  Linnaeus,  decorated  with  a  flower  named  after 
himself  and  of  which  he  was  the  discoverer. 

There  is  a  better  way  of  seeing  these  Dutch  cities 
than  within  college  walls  or  botanical  gardens.  You 
may  go,  as  we  did,  to  the  old  round-tower  or  prison 
— as  old  as  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era.  It 
overlooks  the  city.  It  is  hardly  a  ruin  yet.  It  is 
called  the  Bourg,  and  there  is  a  tavern  at  its  foot. 
Within  a  quaint  court- yard  are  coops  for  chickens. 
They  are  being  fattened  for  the  table.  Plenty  of 
edible  attractions  are  inside.  But  the  museum  of 
Leyden  is  most  interesting;  not  alone  for  its  pictures 
by  the  best  Dutch  masters,  but  for  its  old  customs 
here  preserved.  The  old  standards  of  measurement 
are  here,  beneath  pictures  of  the  syndics  and  burgo- 
masters who  administered  the  city  three  hundred 
years  ago.  The  custodian  thought  these  standards 
still  obtained,  and  when  I  explained  that  astronomy 
had  found  the  exact  distance  from  the  equator  to  the 
pole,  and  constructed  a  yardstick  that  was  infallible, 
he  cudorelled  his  brain  and  enlarged  on  the  ancient 
woollen  advantages  of  Leyden;  and  yet  a  mathemati- 
cal professor  of  Leyden,  Willebrod  Snellurs,  it  was, 
who  first  introduced  the  true  method  of  measuring 
latitude  and  longitude.  Pictures  representing  every 
stage  of  woollen  manufacture,  from  the  shearing  of  the 
sheep  to  the  carding  and  weaving  and  testing  of  the 
fabric,  hung  on  the  walls,  while  the  officials  who  gave 


14  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

to  the  regulations  their  cogency,  looked  clown  upon 
us  in  chiaro-osciiro,  worthy  of  Rembrandt's  compeers. 
Here  was  a  model  of  fish  in  copper,  showing  how  big 
it  must  be  to  be  cauo^ht — a  law  which  Professor  Baird 
and  Seth  Green  would  approve.  Here  was  a  meas- 
ure for  the  size  of  the  netting — a  most  valuable  ad- 
vance on  our  Lonof  Island  customs  in  fishine.  of  recent 
date.  Here  were  stamped  leaden  permits  to  fish,  as 
well  as  other  symbols  of  license  to  carry  on  other  em- 
ployments. Here  were  all  sorts  of  measures,  from 
bushels  to  pints,  as  standards,  and  wooden  potatoes, 
too,  of  a  certain  size,  below  which  it  was  illesfal  to 
sell.  In  a  glass  case  were  letters  carried  by  pigeons 
in  the  time  of  the  siege;  and  a  goblet  with  the  faintest 
of  delicate  angels  cut  upon  it  by  diamond,  the  only 
cup  of  the  kind  in  the  world.  A  map  of  Hol- 
land hunof  before  us  in  needlework.  It  cost  twelve 
guilders  (as  we  were  told)  a  meter  to  make  it,  while  the 
same  work,  per  meter,  would  now  cost  four  thousand 
guilders,  an  illustration  of  progress  since  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  Our  attention  is  called  to  a 
plat  of  Leyden,  on  copper,  six  feet  square.  Upon  this 
every  bit  of  water  and  land  was  marked  off,  and  no 
one  could  buy  or  sell  land  without  a  caveat  from  this 
standing  and  permanent  witness.  In  yonder  case  we 
find  what  we  have  lonofed  to  see,  the  famous  touch- 
stone.  It  bears  upon  it  gold  and  silver  marks,  and 
black  ones,  too,  as  evidence  that  as  a  detector  of 
counterfeits  it  has  served  in  its  day.  We  find  in  this 
museum  much  depicted  about  the  siege  and  the  suf- 
terings  of  the  plucky  people;  and  later,  the  gold  keys 
Napoleon  presented  to  the  city  as  emblematic  of  that 
freedom  which  he  accorded  to  the  cities  where  his 
brother  Louis  was,  by  his  imperial  grace,  made  king. 
Leaving  behind  us  the  "  largest  topaz  in  the  world," 


HOLLAND. 


»5 


in  the  Museum  of  Natural  History,  and  a  piece  of 
native  i^olcl,  seventeen  pounds,  and  other  such  sports 
of  nature,  we  bid  g-ood-by  to  Leyden,  and  for  half 
an  hour  survey  the  black  and  white  cattle  upon  the 
oreen  meadows,  the  succession  of  windmills,  the  sheep 
huddling  in  groups  in  the  cold  air,  albeit  just  shorn, 
the  canals  at  every  angle,  with  their  boats  under  slow 
sail,  until  we  reach  the  river  Spaarn,  or  rather  the 
depot,  and  are  in  old  Haarlem  ! 

Our  first  duty  is  dinner,  and  we  are  quickly  driven 
to  the  hotel.  Thoughts  of  our  modern  New  York 
Harlem  follow  us  through  the  quaint  streets.  The 
strange  people  in  their  wooden  klomps  {sabots  in 
French);  the  odd  little  children,  such  as  we  see,  prim 
and  premature,  upon  Dutch  clocks;  the  peculiar  ga- 
bles and  signs,  and  above  all  the  canals  everywhere, 
make  the  picture  as  full  of  contrasts  as  any  word- 
painter  could  desire.  That  little  Dutch  boy  in  his 
wooden  shoes,  is  he  not  a  little  Vanderbilt  making 
tracks  in  Harlem  ?  Are  there  not  infantile  republi- 
can orators  making  speeches  to  their  confederates 
around  a  fruit-stand;  rosy  Roosevelts  shouldering 
their  poles  and  swishing  their  lines,  to  show  how 
fish  are  caught;  juvenile  Rip  Van  Winkles  asleep 
upon  the  grass,  while  little  Gretchens  hover  around 
like  fair-haired  angels  in  elaborate  womanly  attire; 
possible  capitalists  building  banks  in  sand — not  as 
substantial  as  those  their  big  brothers  have  built  in 
New  Amsterdam, — and  big,  burly  Dutchmen  and 
Dutchwomen  at  every  turn,  showing  that,  exhaus- 
tive as  emigration  may  be  to  these  old  countries, 
there  are  resources  not  yet  beginning  to  be  ex- 
hausted ! 

What  a  language  they  speak !  If  it  be  founded 
on    the    same    elements    as    the    German,    Eno;^lish, 


1 6  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

and  Scandinavian,  it  has  a  softer  sound.  It  doubt- 
less was  mellowed  by  the  Spanish  rule  in  spite  of 
all  enmities,  just  as  the  population,  with  its  fair 
proportion  of  dark  hair  and  Andalusian  black  eyes, 
has  been,  as  the  pictures  of  the  museums  show, 
more  or  less  mingled  with  Southern  blood.  The  old 
root  of  our  common  tongue,  which  "  never  had  a 
syllable  of  slavery  " — is  everywhere  apparent.  The 
words  with  which  we  are  familiar  from  childhood  are 
here,  but  so  curiously  spelled.  All  my  prejudices 
against  Mr.  Artemus  Ward,  Mr.  Joshua  Billings,  and 
our  sarcastic  friend  Nasby  are  fast  vanishing.  My 
love  of  philology  reads  every  sign,  and  even  the 
proper  names  seem  to  be  familiar.  We  enter  the 
hotel.  We  are  tempted  to  register  our  names  as 
from  Harlem,  New  York.  There  is  much  room  in 
the  register  for  such  aberrations.  Are  there  not 
seven  columns,  as  big  as  a  census  schedule,  for  some 
purpose  ?  There  is  the  Naaui  en  Focnaani;  Beroep; 
Gezvone  Woonplaats;  Plaats  van  Waar  zig  Komen; 
Waneer  aangckomen;  Plaats  iverwaarts  zig  gaan;  Bij 
weinbinner  dcze  stad  bckojid,  etc.  I  seek  a  transla- 
tor. French  and  English  fail  in  this  hotel.  At  last, 
assured  that  under  one  of  these  heads  I  must  write 
down  my  business,  standing,  or  something,  I  write 
"  member  of  Consfress "  from  Nieuiu  Amsterdam, 
with  an  ita/ic  on  the  last  syllable.  We  are  enter- 
tained in  princely  style  in  old  Haarlem;  is  it  because 
we  are  solons  ?  We  are  not  long  at  dinner,  as  this 
is  the  day  the  big  organ  with  its  five  thousand  pipes 
and  sixty  stops  is  to  play. 

We  hasten  to  the  church.  It  is  called  St.  Bavon 
(John).  The  church  is  Gothic;  with  a  vastness 
wliich  is  increased  by  the  lofty  square  tower,  from 
which   one   can    easily  see    over    most    of   this   low 


IIOLLAXD.  17 

country,  from  the  Hague  to  Utrecht.  Like  nearly 
all  of  these  splendid  structures,  this  church  is  of 
Catholic  origin,  though  it  is  now  Protestant — the 
dominant  religion.  The  pillars  are  not  fluted,  but, 
having  been  "  cleaned  off"  to  some  extent,  rare  fres- 
cos, in  rich  colors,  illustrating  old  events  in  Catholic 
history,  come  to  the  light.  But  there  is  little  decora- 
tion besides,  except  the  organ  itself,  which  fills  up 
one  end  of  the  vast  building,  reaching  to  its  vault. 
It  is  supported  by  marble  pillars.  It  is  painted 
white,  and  is  in  unison  with  the  white  marble  figures 
and  the  simplicity  of  the  interior.  The  coat  of  arms 
of  Haarlem  is  a  crown,  sword,  and  four  stars,  and  the 
motto  three  V's — Vincit  vim  virtus.  This  appears 
above  the  or^an.  On  either  side  are  efficfies  of  Da- 
vid,  with  his  harp,  and  other  symbols  of  melody. 
Some  of  the  imagfes  are  lions — more  harmonious 
than  those  of  the  zoological  garden.  The  pulpit 
is  richly  carved,  and  the  windows  let  in  some  relig- 
ious light.  This  cathedral  does  not,  however,  equal 
the  English  minsters  and  Catholic  basilicas.  All  is 
severe  compared  with  what  is  seen  in  Spain  and 
Italy,  or  at  Westminster  and  Winchester.  Hanging 
up  is  an  advertisement  of  "  Psalm  and  verse "  for 
next  Sunday.  Beneath  us,  as  we  walk,  are  tombs  ot 
granite,  half  worn,  showing  sometimes  date  and  name 
and  heraldic  devices.  The  ceiling  above  is  oaken 
and  unpainted.  There  are  galleries,  supported  by 
porphyry  columns.  They  seem  like  cloisters.  The 
chairs  are  plain,  with  here  and  there  some  high  pews 
for  the  rich.  Hanofinof  between  the  bio-  columns  are 
three  or  four  ships,  models  of  some  of  those  historic 
"  seventy-fours,"  famous  in  Dutch  sea-fights.  They 
hang  over  the  tomb  of  Admiral  De  Ruyter.  We  see 
signs,  even  in  the  frescos  upon  the  stone  of  pillars, 


1 8  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

of  a  kind  of  drapery,  which  has  its  counterpart  on 
every  festal  day  in  Spain,  hanging  in  gold  and  scarlet 
from  thousands  of  balconies.  Near  the  middle  of  the 
church  are  some  iron-bound  chests,  with  immense 
locks,  and  a  hole  in  the  top  for  contributions,  for  the 
poor.  They  are  opened  on  New  Year's  Day,  and 
are  evidently  locomotive,  as  they  rest  on  sleds  and 
can  be  pulled  around. 

But  hark!  The  Qrreat  orcfan  begins  its  slow,  sweet 
melody.  Slowly  and  deftly  the  strands  of  sound  are 
intertwisted,  like  the  colors  of  the  spectrum,  and  at 
last  the  music  bursts  forth  in  a  full  flood  of  diapason. 
One  cannot  say  it  peals;  it  is  too  musical  for  thun- 
der, but  it  swells  in  choral  grandeur,  bearing  its  sym- 
phonies with  the  soul  upward  through  and  above  the 
vaulted  roofs  to  the  bright  blue  heaven  beyond. 

We  linger  so  long,  spellbound  by  the  magic  of 
this  music,  that  we  forget  that  the  museums  are  clos- 
ing, and  so  content  ourselves  with  a  visit  to  the  ex- 
tensive gardens  of  the  largest  company  at  this  mart 
of  flowers.  When  tulips  sold  for  two  thousand  dol- 
lars a  bulb,  and  the  mania  was  at  its  height,  Haarlem 
was  the  capital  of  the  craze.  She  made  the  most  by 
it.  Even  yet  the  horticulturist,  whose  grounds  we 
visited,  exports  crocuses,  hyacinths,  ranunculuses,  and 
tulips  by  the  hundred  thousand.  The  gambling  in 
these  natural  beauties  is  only  a  reminiscence  of  a 
huge  and  costly  joke.  The  proper  medium  for  esti- 
mating the  horticultural  and  agricultural  wealth  of 
Holland,  is  through  her  pre-eminence  in  hydraulics 
and  hydrostatics.  Did  she  not  transform  water  into 
land  ?  Did  she  not  make  her  "  submarine  horti- 
culture the  despair  of  all  gardeners  in  the  world  ?  " 

The  rest  of  our  day  in  Haarlem  is  spent  in  driving 
about  for  observation  of  its  odd  customs.     There  is 


HOLLAND.  19 

nothing  laughable  intrinsically  in  costumes  and  cus- 
toms.    What  may  seem  odd  to  us,  in  the  national  pe- 
culiarities,  is  certainly  not  so  to  other  folk;  and  vice 
versa.     Yet   there  are   many  curious  things   in   old 
Haarlem,  which  we  look  for  in  vain  in  new  Harlem. 
Some  of  these  might  be  copied  by  us  with  advan- 
tage ;    the    charities,   for  instance.     We    observe    an 
orphan  asylum.     It  bears  date  about  the  time  Vir- 
ginia was  setded  by  John  Smith.     It  has  an  odd  sign 
over  the  door.     It  is  a  cage  full  of  little  children. 
Out  of  the  cage  come  the  beneficiaries.     How  strange- 
ly dressed  are  the  orphan  boys  and  girls  we  see  upon 
the  streets,  dressed  half  black  and  half  red;  the  boys 
like  the  circus  clown,  one  leg  and  arm  of  one  color, 
and  the  other  of  another ;  the  girls  have  bodices  of 
black  and  petticoats  of  red.     These  Dutch  are  the 
very  Pirates  of  Penzance  in  their  respect  to  orphans  ! 
We  have  seen  some  odd  symbols  in  the  museums 
here.     To  instance:  as  the  sign  that  it  is  the  last  of 
a  family,   a  reaper   and  a  death's   head    is    painted 
black.     I    am   thirsty  and  want  a  drink — of  water. 
Outside   of  a  wall   is  a  heavy  iron  handle   with  an 
enormous  iron  bulb  at  its  end.     I  see  a  spout  only, 
and  ply  the  handle,  no  pump  appearing.     Some  little 
Dutch  yonkers  had  a  laugh  at  my  awkwardness  at 
handling  the  machine;  but  as  the  water  is  not — safe 
here  I  desisted.     The  signs  over  the  shops  are  unique. 
A  barber  is  indicated  by  a  shining  brass  bowl  hung 
up  in  front  of  his  shop;  an  apothecary  by  the  wry 
face  of  a  man  carved  in  wood  with  his  tongue  out ! 
Venedan  blinds  are  on  the  inside  and  outside  of  the 
windows,  and  before  many  windows  on  the  outside 
are  mirrors  so  arranged  that  the  unseen  inmates  may 
see  all  that  passes  in  the  street.     Cigar-shops  are  as 
common   as  beer  and    schnapps-shops.     Every  one 


20  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

smokes,  from  five  years  old  upward — I  mean  of  the 
sterner  sex — and  every  one  of  both  sexes  drinks, 
and  yet  we  see  no  one  intoxicated.  There  are  no 
tramps  in  Holland.  We  often  see  warehouses  in 
our  own  country  with  a  projection  from  the  roof, 
from  which  depends  a  hook  to  haul  up  by  pulley- 
power,  such  merchandise  and  things  as  need  stor- 
age. Here,  many  private  houses  are  thus  accoutred. 
This  is  not  more  outre  than  the  niourning  habili- 
ments, where  the  hired  undertaker  and  his  sad  people 
wear  long  black  veils  from  their  caps  and  white  rib- 
bons, besides  being-  adorned  on  the  lee  to  the  shanks 
with  tights  and  shoe-buckles.  They  seem  to  mourn 
over  the  deceased  without  a  ''  dejected  'havior  of  the 
visage,  or  fruitful  river  of  the  eye."  We  observe  a 
peculiar  vehicle  upon  the  street,  a  large  yellow  wagon. 
It  would  make  a  sensation  in  new  Harlem.  What 
is  it  ?  No  less  than  the  omnibus  for  collecting  dirty 
clothes  to  wash;  for  be  it  known  that  Haarlem  washes 
for  most  of  Holland.  The  Dutch  have  an  abundance 
of  linen  and  clothes  for  wear  and  sleeping,  and  they 
wash  at  lono^  intervals.  Haarlem  washes  for  the  kino^- 
dom.  Haarlem  is  entitled  to  its  prominence  as  the 
capital  washer.  No  Chinese  need  apply  there.  Every- 
thing is  painfully  neat,  especially  the  streets.  There 
are  no  towns,  unless  it  be  those  gems  of  villages  on  the 
Isle  of  Wight,  to  compare  in  exquisite,  dainty  cleanli- 
ness with  these  places  of  Holland.  They  do  not  burn 
wood  or  coal,  but  peat.  This  is  dug  out  of  the  soil  in 
great  quantities,  and  brought  by  canal  to  the  towns  and 
cities.  Everywhere  we  see  alternating  with  the  white 
fleecy  sheep,  black  and  white  spotted  cows,  and  the 
green  fields, — the  dark  and  watery  peat- beds  and  piles. 
They  are  as  much  of  a  Dutch  feature  as  the  wooden 
shoes,  the  melancholy  stork,  or  the  windmill. 


HOLLAND.  21 

These  are  but  the  faint  etchings  of  the  Maar- 
lem  and  its  environs  whicli  we  glanced  at,  and  whose 
interior  hfe  we  had  no  time  to  see.  It  is  not  a  large 
city,  having  but  36,000  people;  but  it  has  its  grand 
annals,  sung  in  lyric,  recited  in  history,  pictured  on 
canvas,  and  even  reproduced  by  panorama.  The  pan- 
orama represents  the  famous  seven- months'  siege  in 
1572  and  1573.  When  Spain  had  her  empire  under 
Charles  V.  and  Philip  II.,  she  worshipped  no  god 
Terminus,  and  knew  no  boundary  to  her  ambition. 
Silver  Peru  and  auriferous  Mexico  were  honored  by 
her  condescension,  only  to  be  despoiled.  Holland 
might  vie  with  Spain  for  the  wealth  of  the  Indies,  but 
Spanish  ambition  sought  to  extend  the  sceptre  of 
Latin  rule  over  these  lowlands  of  the  North.  It  was 
commercial  Cadiz  versus  active  Amsterdam;  splendid 
Seville  against  industrious  Haarlem;  magnificent  Mal- 
aga against  its  rival  of  Rotterdam,  and  truce  to  none 
who  were  in  the  fight.  Sectarianism  and  a  pride 
of  purple  embittered  this  eighty-year  conflict,  but 
self-government  and  the  freedom  of  trade  had  their 
banner  in  Holland,  which  neither  Qfreed  of  eold  nor 
chivalry  in  armor  could  altogether  suppress. 

Ascend  with  me  to  the  old  Stadhuis  or  Town  Hall 
of  Haarlem.  Make  the  time,  nunc  pro  tunc,  in  the 
dead  of  winter  1572-3,  with  the  piercing  northern 
blasts  in  full  rigor.  Look  around;  first,  inside  the 
walls.  You  need  not  draw  upon  your  fancy  for  the 
picture.  Dutch  art  has  consecrated  the  patriotic  hor- 
rors of  that  time,  and  Dutch  type  (whose  inventor 
has  here  his  monument)  has  handed  down  its  stirring 
tragedies.  Men,  women,  and  children  wasted  by 
famine — not  a  thing  left  to  eat;  rats,  cats,  dogs,  all 
consumed;  unyielding  still,  and  even  when  the  plague 
comes  as  the  consequence  of  famine,  still  unyielding. 


22  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

The  last  horse's  head  (the  ilkistration  here  of  desper- 
ate hunger)  is  eaten;  the  infant  is  draining  its  last 
drop  of  milk  from  the  dead  mother;  six  thousand 
dead  poison  the  air;  and  still  the  beleaguered  city  is 
unconquered.  Assault  upon  assault  is  made  upon 
the  walls.  The  women  of  Haarlem  pour  hot  oil  upon 
the  Spanish  host,  and  still  the  relentless  captains 
of  the  Duke  of  Alva  press  the  siege.  At  last  the  be- 
sieged grow  desperate.  They  resolve  to  make  a 
sortie,  and,  if  need  be,  die.  The  Spaniards  hear  of 
this  and  offer  pardon  to  all,  if  only  fifty-seven  of  the 
chief  citizens  are  given  up.  The  fifty-seven  are 
ready.  The  city  is  surrendered.  But  the  terms  are 
violated,  and  2,300  of  the  citizens  are  murdered — 
three  hundred  of  whom  are  tied  back  to  back  and 
drowned  in  Haarlem  Lake.  Alas !  poor  Haarlem. 
Its  30,000  besiegers  had  conquered  its  garrison;  but 
not  without  feeling  the  force  of  heroic  resistance  by 
women  as  well  as  men;  for  one  woman,  Kenau  Has- 
selaer,  and  her  three  hundred  female  soldiers,  are  al- 
ready handed  down  by  the  muse  of  history  and  pic- 
tured in  the  colors  and  portraiture  of  the  best  art  of 
this  wonderful  and  picturesque  land. 

May  I  not,  therefore,  say  of  old  Haarlem  that  the 
women  are  fiehtinof  characters !  Let  him  who  thousfht- 
lessly  wives  in  Haarlem  take  heed !  Do  I  need  to 
read  of  the  "  desperate  Sally  "  of  the  Haarlem  siege  ? 
Is  she  a  character  easily  to  be  wooed,  or  won,  or 
conquered  ?  If  you  are  not  chivalric  enough  to  glow 
over  Motley's  page  which  recounts  this  siege — if  you 
are  of  a  mechanic  turn  and  believe  that  the  days  of 
chivalry  and  walled  towns  are  gone — go  with  me 
through  the  plantations  and  villas  around  Haarlem, 
to  see  the  famous  engines  which  pumped  out  a  thou- 
sand million  tons  of  water,  and  made  out  of  the  lake 


HOLLAND. 


23 


of  Haarlem  those  beautiful  and  useful  meadows  of 
green,  where  the  black  and  white  cows  and  the  inno- 
cent sheep  now  ruminate,  and  where  Dutch  cheeses, 
by  the  million,  are  made  out  of  stock  which  knows 
no  g-uilty  waterino-,  and  where  every  wind  that  blows 
turns  a  simple  mill  which  Don  Quixote,  from  Spain, 
could  not  conquer,  and  which  beats  back  at  once  the 
river  god  of  old  Rhine  and  the  classic  god  Neptune, 
in  their  conspiracy  to  drown  out  this  heroic  land  and 
people. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AMSTERDAM— ITS  PEOPLE,  INDUSTRIES,  AND  QUAINT  CUSTOMS 
—A  VISIT  TO  THE  PALACE. 

"From  pictures  past  to  present  time, 
Fro/)i  city  sight  to  rural  scene 
We  turn,  and  docks  laith  bale  and  wine. 
And  fat,  fresh  fields  of  quiet  kine, 
Tliere  shaded  hamlets,  quaint  and  clean; 
And  Holland' s  race,  bliijf  and  sublime, 
Whose  industry  and  force,  I  ween, 
Have  conquered  ocean  to  maintain 
A  home  beneath,  as  on  the  main." — T.  C.  Irwin. 

MUCH  the  same  scenery  as  I  have  described  ap- 
pears between  the  old  city  of  Haarlem  and 
Amsterdam.  The  latter  lies  due  east.  It  is  crescent- 
shaped.  It  is  nominally  situated  upon  the  river  Am- 
stel,  which  empties  into  the  Rhine;  but  really  it  is 
placed  upon  the  waters  generally,  being  built,  at  im- 
mense cost,  upon  13,667  piles.  In  fact,  it  is  on  the 
rescued  bottom  of  the  Zuyder  Zee,  or  something 
aqueous  connected  with  that  sea  and  its  outlets.  It 
is  said  to  be  situated  upon  ninety  islands;  but  no  one 
would  guess  where  they  lie,  there  are  so  many 
bridges.  In  going  toward  it,  upon  a  pleasant  even- 
ing in  mid-June,  we  are  ourselves  happily  situated  for 
observation.  There  is  some  reproach  in  travelling 
"  first  class,"  but  to  have  eight  seats  to  yourself,  and 
two  large  windows  and  plenty  of  maps  and  books— 
without  any  discomfort — one  may  enjoy  domestic 
tranquillity  while  on  a  travel  of  twenty  miles  an  hour. 


HOLLAND.  25 

Besides,  in  these  low  countries  there  is  no  obstacle 
to  sight.  The  pied  cows  are  abroad  by  the  thousand. 
Many  of  them  at  least,  and  especially  those  which 
give  milk,  are  covered,  as  a  precaution  against  the 
night  chills.  They  look  comical  in  their  gray  coats. 
The  sheep  have  fleeces  of  gold,  under  the  sunset  ra- 
diance, and  little  Jasons  are  watching  them.  The 
meadows  are  equally  golden  with  flowers,  with  here 
and  there  light  patches  of  sunlit  cowslips;  at  least,  we 
take  them  to  be  such,  as  the  cows  are  among  them, 
and  are  endeavoring,  by  chewing  the  cud  of  medita- 
tion, to  give  a  golden  tinge  to  their  product  of  milk, 
cream,  butter,  and  cheese.  On  every  side  are  green 
fields  of  flax  and  wheat,  red-tiled  hamlets  and  trim 
spires.  Waterways  branch  in  every  direction.  The 
windmills  swing  their  long  arms  under  the  evening 
breeze,  as  if  weary  with  their  daily  work  and  longing 
to  rest.  The  canal-scows  (how  unromantic !),  as  if 
touched  with  the  contagion  of  ease,  hardly  seem  to 
move — at  least,  from  our  standpoint  in  the  swift  train. 
At  every  pause  you  may  see  the  thatched  and  red- 
roofed  cottages,  as  snug  as  your  ideal  of  a  home,  and 
around  them,  the  lilacs  in  full  bloom. 

At  last  the  red  roofs  and  tall  steeples  of  Amster- 
dam appear.  Soon  we  are  at  the  Hotel  Amstel,  by 
the  broad  river  of  that  name.  We  have  our  supper 
by  the  window  outlooking  upon  the  river.  There  is 
a  grand  picture  upon  the  stream,  which  does  not  go 
to  bed  with  the  sun,  and  the  sun  does  not  retire  here 
now  till  about  nine.  This  river  is  not  so  wide  as  the 
Harlem  River,  New  York,  but  from  early  morning 
till  long  after  nightfall,  the  industrious  boats  are  pull- 
ing up  and  down,  or  being  poled,  laden  with  peat, 
hay,  green  grass,  vegetables,  furniture,  and  all  the 
products  of  town  and  country.     It  is  said  that  twenty 


26  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

thousand  of  the  three  hundred  thousand  population 
of  Amsterdam,  with  tlieir  famiHes,  make  houses  of 
their  boats,  as  at  Constantinople.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  where  so  much  of  the  highway  is  liquid. 
Little  haven  steamers  ply  continually  past  our  vision, 
laden  with  passengers,  for  these  are  the  omnibuses 
of  this  northern  Venice.  A  little  battauL  mouche  (fly- 
boat)  lies  at  our  wharf.  It  is  the  hotel  boat,  which  is 
hired  as  a  carriage  by  the  hour  and  bears  the  guests 
about  the  city  for  a  small  sum.  Across  the  river  and 
lining  the  quay  are  splendid  houses,  many-storied, 
with  the  ofarniture  of  fresh  summer  in  front  and  the 
Dutch  flae  floatine  from  their  roofs.  This  is  our  first 
glimpse  of  this  opulent  northern  city  of  the  sea.  This 
glimpse  is  no  revelation  of  its  wonderful  and  complex 
beauty,  urban  and  suburban.  No  one  but  a  Dutch 
painter,  with  the  native  skill  for  fine  portraiture  of 
every  detail,  could  represent  to  the  eye  this  city  of 
ramparts  turned  into  promenades  and  boulevards, 
narrow  and  broad  streets,  or  little  and  big  canals,  and 
of  limited  and  unlimited  views.  If  the  American 
think  that  he  monopolizes  the  comforts  of  neat  street- 
cars, or  if  he  think  that  the  elevated  trains  are  more 
comfortable  than  the  fleet  conveyances  of  cities  abroad, 
let  him  observe  the  working  of  the  tramways  of  Am- 
sterdam and  other  Dutch  cities.  Not  only  are  they 
limited  as  to  the  number  of  passengers — sixteen  in- 
side, six  in  front,  and  six  in  the  rear,  and  all  ac- 
commodated— but  no  one  infringes  the  rule.  At 
every  corner  they  give  time  to  the  incoming  and 
outgoing  passenger;  and  their  time  of  movement  is 
as  reofular  as  that  of  a  Dutch  clock.  It  is  useless 
to  remark  upon  the  imiform  cleanliness  of  the  streets. 
They  are  each  and  all  alike  as  tidy  as  the  best  house- 
wife could  wish. 


HOLLAND.  27 

Our  first  venture  at  sight-seeing  was  at  tlic  palace. 
This  is  the  most  elegant  and  interesting  structure  in 
the  city.  It  has  13,000  piles  under  it,  and  is  over 
two  hundred  years  old.  The  cupola  is  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  high.  The  square  upon  which  it  fronts 
is  ornamented  with  an  elegant  monument.  It  marks 
the  original  Dam!  The  square  is  called  "The  Dam." 
No  dam  appears  now,  for  the  square  is  solid  pave- 
ment; but  the  various  imagery  of  the  monument  con- 
tributes to  impress  upon  the  beholder  the  fact  that 
the  place  has  once  been  dammed.  Excuse  this  "dam- 
nable iteration,"  but  one  cannot  picture  Holland  with- 
out these  expletives,  which  represent  innocence  as 
well  as  utility.  The  proper  place  to  start  from,  in 
gathering  your  impression  of  Amsterdam,  is  the  Dam. 
Its  palace  is  rich  in  art  treasures.  The  father  of  the 
French  Emperor  Louis  Napoleon  III.  here  lived, 
when  kino-  of  Holland.  He  converted  this  buildinof 
into  a  palace.  It  was  only  the  "dam  town  hall"  be- 
fore, and  its  custodians  seem  to  take  a  pride  in  their 
municipal  memories,  as  they  impress  this  local  fact 
on  the  visitor.  The  interior  is  of  fine  white  marble, 
and  bas-reliefs  over  all  the  doors.  Red,  blue,  and 
yellow  brocade  hangings  are  upon  the  walls  and 
chairs.  The  chapel  is  all  marble,  and  is  superb. 
With  its  high,  domed  roof,  and  throne  at  one  end, 
with  old  Atlas  bearing  up  the  world  at  the  other,  the 
ball-hall  has  no  equal.  We  passed  into  the  ancient 
Bankruptcy  Court-room.  Its  pictures  are  character- 
istic. One  bas-relief  shows  how  the  rats  have  gnawed 
the  money-bags;  and  what  with  broken  clasps  and 
locks,  the  bankrupt  idea  is  portrayed  to  the  eye. 
Other  paintings  are  patriotic.  There  is  an  attractive 
one  illustrating  how  Van  Speyke  blew  up  his  ship,  in 
1830,  rather  than  surrender  it  to  the  Belgians,  on  the 


28  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

division  of  the  Netherlands.  But  why  undertake  to 
catalogue  the  rare  paintings  in  this  or  in  other  collec- 
tions ?  We  have  visited  the  famed  private  galleries, 
those  of  De  Horp,  Van  Loon,  and  Six,  wherein  are 
gathered  all  the  rarest  works  of  the  Dutch  school.  That 
is  a  fine  tribute  to  art  which  this  city  has  given  in  the 
splendid  monument  in  one  of  its  squares,  to  Rem- 
brandt, who  was  born  here. 

One  tires  at  the  endless  list  of  these  indus- 
trious artists.  We  see  their  works  in  Paris  and 
London,  and  I  am  told  that  at  St.  Petersburg 
there  are  chambers  dedicated  to  these  particu- 
lar Dutch  genii.  Teniers,  Rubens,  Vandyck,  Wou- 
verman,  Dow,  and  others  put  in  perpetual  ap- 
pearance here  and  elsewhere,  wherever  gold  can  buy 
or  taste  appreciate  the  finest  of  fine  art.  Everywhere 
you  are  haunted  by  Rembrandt,  whose  pictures  are 
said  to  be  painted  by  a  star  on  the  night!  Every- 
where are  Paul  Potter's  landscapes  "sweet  with 
kine,"  and  instinct  with  a  love  for  the  dumb  life  of 
the  field!  Everywhere  you  meet  the  shining  steel 
and  copper  of  the  kitchen,  and  the  rosy  cheeks,  yel- 
low petticoats,  stiff  satin  robes  and  rich  laces,  brown 
cabinets  and  delicate  china  of  Jan  Steen.  Every- 
where, Vandervelde  illustrates  his  marine  views, — 
bearing  the  flaming  men-of-war  and  high  argosies 
of  commerce! 

But  we  are  forgetting  nature.  Let  us  ascend  to 
the  cupola  of  the  palace,  if  only  for  a  coup  d'ceil  of 
the  splendid  city  and  its  environs.  An  ancient  warder, 
over  six  feet  high,  in  uniform,  and  with  a  deep  bass 
voice  and  speaking  good  English,  is  our  guide.  From 
this  "  coign  of  vantage  "  in  the  cupola,  may  be  seen, 
to  the  east,  the  Zuyder  Zee,  fringed  with  a  white  surf, 
and   its   connections.     The  green  pastures  alternate 


HOLLAND.  29 

with  the  sparkling-  waters  as  far  as  we  can  discern. 
The  towns  of  Zandam  and  Broeck  (the  cleanly)  are 
easily  discernible  a  dozen  miles  away,  while  under 
our  eye  is  the  monument  I  have  remarked  upon,  to 
the  first  "dam";  and  on  the  other  side  is  the  rear 
view  of  the  bronze  image  of  Atlas,  on  the  palace 
front,  and  the  grand  "New  Church"  (three  hundred 
years  old)  upon  still  another  side  of  the  square  of 
"  the  dam."  The  air  blows  keenly  into  the  cupola 
across  these  level  lands  from  the  Zuyder  Zee,  but  it  is 
tinijed  with  the  fracfrance  of  the  interveninir  mead- 
ows.  I  ask  our  custodian  how  he  warms  the  pal- 
ace in  winter,  as  I  saw  no  evidences  of  caloric  in  the 
halls  or  rooms. 

"Oh!  we   carry  bags   of  hot  w^ater  in  our  arms, 
over  our  breasts — so!" 

"  Why  don't  you  carry  some  schnapps  inside  your 
breasts — so!  and  keep  warm?" 

"We  do  that,  too,"  said  our  Hercules,  with  an  in- 
flammatory moisture  of  his  eye  and  a  ruddier  tinge 
to  his  nose  at  the  fond  recollection. 

These  free  exchanges  of  convivial  thoughts  melt 
the  ice  of  reserve,  and  we  become  communicative, 
only  to  be  interrupted  by  the  chime  of  forty-eight 
bells  playing  some  air  from  the  opera  of  the  "  Prophet." 
The  big  bell  then  strikes  twelve,  and  we  renew  the 
hiofh  communications.  Our  conductor  has  been  at  a 
loss  as  to  our  nationality.  When  he  learns  that 
we  are  Americans,  he  becomes  still  more  and  more 
communicative.  He  regrets  that  he  did  not  thirty 
years  ago  leave  Holland  for  America. 

"  I  had  it  all  fixed  with  a  companion,"  he  said.  "  He 
went  alone.  He  is  rich  now  in  money  and  honors, 
and  is  a  senator!  Here  am  I,  only  doing  the  honors 
of  a  royal  palace." 


30  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "you  might  have  been  rich  too, 
and  honored,  but  you  could  not  have  been  President. 
You  never  drove  a  canal-boat!" 

"What!"  he  said,  somewhat  dazed  at  my  abrupt- 
ness.    "  I  was  raised  on  a  canal." 

"Well,  your  children  would  have  been  eligible,  but 
our  Constitution  limits  the  office  of  President  to  na- 
tive-born persons,  and  we  have  just  elected  a  native 
canal-boat  driver  to  be  President!" 

He  was  not  suspicious  nor  surprised  at  my  re- 
mark. Perhaps  he  was  incredulous.  I  had  some 
doubts  whether  I  was  not  guilty  of  some  sort  of 
deception. 

He  led  us  around  the  cupola,  and  there  we  had  a 
clear  view  of  Holland.  "  That,"  said  he,  pointing 
westward  to  two  towers  on  the  horizon,  "  that  is 
Haarlem — Haarlem  of  the  famous  siecre !  ' 

"  We,  too,"  I  remarked,  "  have  our  Harlem,  but 
it  is  not  so  old  or  quiet,  or,  perhaps,  so  courageous 
as  yours.  We,"  said  I,  thinking  with  pride  of  the 
Dutch  names  of  our  early  history,  "  we  were  once 
NieiLiu  Amsterdam.  You  beat  us  on  the  dams,  but 
we  are  ahead  in  population,  if  not  in  canals.  It  was 
Avith  chanfrin  that  we  were  transferred  to  the  British 
yoke  from  the  Hollandish.  We  remained  with  our 
step-mother  till  our  da?jis  got  too  frequent,  and  then 
we  set  up  for  ourselves." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  melancholy  gleam  of  fun, 
"  everypody  vat  homes  here  talks  of  everyting  being 
dams,  and  they  laughs." 

To  which  I  responded,  inquiringly,  "  How  many 
dams  have  you  got,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Dere's  Amsten/^?;;/,  and  Rotterdam — " 

"  Yes,  we  know  them ;  these  dams  are  household 
words  with  us  !  " 


HOLLAND.  31 

"  And  Sclumlam,  and  Monnekdam,  and  Midam, 
and  Oosdam,  and  Zandam,  and  Schiedam." 

"Oh!  yes,"  I  interrupted,  "Schnapps — Schiedam?" 

"  Yah  !  yah  !     Everyti.n_o-s  is  dam." 

"  Any  more  ?  "  I  asked  anxiously. 

"  Opip^en^^;;/,  and  Wmne.nda)n,  and  Vo\\Qnda7n, 
and  \N\idani,  and  Y)Q.rgQ.rdajn  /  " 

My  wife  here  became  horrified,  remarking  that  she 
believed  I  came  to  this  country  to  do  profanity  with 
impunity;  for  I  had  the  old  A-davt  in  me.  I  recon- 
ciled her  by  the  gende  remark  that  she  herself  was  a 
dame;  whereat  the  royal  custodian,  pointing  down  to 
the  monument,  to  the  ovl^  fans  et  origo  of  all  the  dams, 
again  remarked: 

"  Every  tings  is  dam,  dam,  dam  !  " 

Then  we  descended  and  started  for  the  Zoological 
Gardens.  Remembering  a  menagerie  bill,  posted  near 
my  rooms  in  Washington,  where  some  swearing  urchin 
had  changed  "  Adam  Forepaugh  the  showman,"  into 
"  Dam  Forepaugh,"  I  concluded  that  profanity  might 
be  associated  even  with  such  gentle  associations  as  the 
roarine  Beneal  tieer  and  the  racrinor  rhinoceros.  Am- 
sterdam  is  not  less  noted  for  her  charities,  than  for  her 
zoological  institution.  The  garden  is  superior  to  th-e 
Zoo  of  London  or  the  Jardin  at  Paris,  at  least  in  the 
quality  of  its  animals,  if  not  the  beauty  of  its  grounds. 
The  animals  with  which  we  disported  were  very  in- 
teresting. They  certainly,  with  one  exception,  seemed 
to  be  favorably  inclined  to  Americans.  Loaded  with 
a  variety  of  food  for  their  gratification,  we  enjoyed  the 
monkeys,  and  then  the  hippopotami.  There  are  two 
of  these  pachydermatous  mightinesses  here;  and  we 
are  informed  by  their  keeper  that  they  are  old  mem- 
bers of  the  association,  being  twenty-one  years  resi- 
dent.    They  are  quite  tame,  and  the  largest  of  their 


32  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

kind.  The  female  has  given  birth  to  seventeen  young 
ones.  Their  keeper  called  them  up  to  the  bars,  and, 
on  a  signal,  he  opened  their  ponderous  javv^s,  while  he 
handled  their  adipose  insides — gills,  tongues,  etc.-— as 
far  down  as  his  arm  could  reach.  I  wanted  to  try 
it,  but  my  guardian  angel,  near,  prevented. 

"  What  would  be  said  of  you  if  you  should  lose 
your  arm  in  the  jaw  of  a  Dutch  hippopotamus  ?  " 

'T  should  be,"  I  rejoined,  "a  one-armed  Congress- 
man; and  if  I  ever  ran  again,  how  popular  I  should 
be!" 

On  giving  the  keeper  a  guilder  (forty  cents),  he 
made  them  howl  like  the  forty  bulls  of  Bashan, 
by  a  signal  in  an  adjacent  room.  Twice  he 
did  this,  by  thumping  his  wooden  shoes  on  the 
floor;  the  brutes  being  under  water  !  He  must  have 
had  some  occult  mechanism,  by  which  he  pricked 
them  from  the  other  room.  I  suggested  that  a 
pin  in  their  tender  dermis  would  answer  the  saga- 
cious suspicion.  But  the  elephant  captivated  us.  He 
took  bread  and  coin  in  his  trunk  from  us  with  equal 
facility,  depositing  the  bread  in  his  mouth  and  the  coin 
in  a  box.  He  could  tell  the  difference  between  a  cop- 
per and  a  silver  coin.  The  former  he  treated  with 
contempt,  the  silver  with  as  much  tenderness  as  if  he 
were  on  the  Monetary  Conference.  I  tried  some  fa- 
miliarities with  a  llama  from  South  America.  He 
was  willing  to  eat  of  my  bread;  but  how  did 
he  repay  the  kindness  ?  He  spit  at  me,  to  the 
utter  disgust  of  the  camel,  who  got  up  his  back.  But 
pachydermata  are  not  peculiar  to  Amsterdam,  although 
the  facility  of  the  Dutch  for  obtaining  fine  beasts  from 
their  East  Indian  colonies  is  unequalled;  and,  being 
Government  importations,  there  is  no  protective  tariff 
upon  them,  as  there  is  upon  the  elevated  giraffe  and 


HOLLAND. 


Zl 


four-handed  anthropoids,  widi  which  die  American 
}'outh  arc  pleased  withal. 

In  a  sketch  of  Amsterdam,  it  would  not  be  out  of 
place  to  record  our  visit  to  the  diamond-cutting-  estab- 
lishment. There  diamond  cuts  diamond,  after  much 
delicate  employment  of  handiwork  and  machine  work. 
Literally,  the  dust  of  the  diamond,  the  essential  atomy 
of  the  carbon,  is  used  to  cut  out  the  flaws,  and  thus 
illustrate  the  iris.  How  the  diamond  is  polished  by 
its  own  dust  is  not  altogether  a  moral  or  a  rhetorical 
performance;  but  with  the  acid  of  amalgamized  zinc 
and  quicksilver  and  a  quick  revolving  plate  the  con- 
densed charcoal,  which  gleams  so  splendidly  upon  my 
lady's  parure,  is  here  made  to  order  by  that  alone 
which  is  its  parallel — its  own  infinitesimal  crystals ! 

Nor  can  I  describe  the  ship-building,  which,  ever 
since  Peter  the  Great  learned  his  trade  in  Holland, 
has  been  carried  on  with  more  certainty  and  skill,  not 
to  say  permanency,  than  by  our  inventive  and  adven- 
turous people. 

If  I  had  time,  what  pictures  could  be  produced 
of  the  flora  which  is  here  abundantly  and  tastefully 
culti\'ated.  For  all  this — as  well  as  for  the  em- 
bellishments of  home  and  garden — I  can  only  refer 
to  the  museums,  where  are  stored  the  richest  speci- 
mens of  Dutch  industry.  Delft- ware.  Here,  too,  is 
pictured  with  wonderful  particularity  of  outline  and 
color  every  feature  of  this  rare  city  of  the  northern 
seas.  Within  a  few  miles  of  these  evidences  of  wealth 
and  taste  over  the  Zuyder  Zee  to  the  Isle  of  Maarke, 
in  undisturbed  repose,  the  yellow-haired  and  blue- 
eyed  Hollander  fishes  and  lives,  worships  and  wor- 
ries, dresses  and  deports  himself,  much  as  he  did 
when  the  Danes  made  their  piratical  incursions  into 
Great  Britain,  or  the  Romans  planted  their  eagles 
upon  the  chalky  cliffs  of  Albion. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

DUTCH    PICTURES,    FARMS,    CHEESE,    FACTORIES    AND    BIBLE 
HOUSE— OPULENCE  OF  HOLLAND. 

"Oh,  Holland  is  a  barren  place, 

In  it  there  grows  nae  grain, 
Nor  ony  habitation 

Wherein  for  to  remain j 
But  the  sugar  canes  are  plenty. 

And  the  wine  draps  frae  the  tree, 
But  the  lowlands  of  Holland 

Hae  twined  iny  love  and  me.'' — Burns. 

THE  bonny  verse  of  the  Scotch  bard  which  begins 
this  chapter  is  an  ironic  tribute  to  that  artistic, 
social  and  physical  wealth,  out  of  which  so  much  of 
the  happiness  of  Holland  flows. 

A  student  like  Motley  could  not  fail  to  compre- 
hend the  vastness  of  these  resources;  and  it  would 
seem  like  adding  another  hue  to  the  rainbow — to  add 
more  pen  pictures  to  the  grand  gallery  which  his  his- 
toric genius  has  portrayed.  He  wrote  out  of  a  full 
heart  and  abundant  repertoire;  but  he  wrote  of  the 
past.  He  tells  us  truly  and  with  the  particularity  of  a 
Dutch  picture,  some  of  the  evidences,  two  centuries 
ago,  of  the  thrift  of  Holland: 

"In  every  brach  of  human  industry  these  republicans  took  the 
lead.  On  that  scrap  of  solid  ground,  rescued  by  human  energy  from 
the  ocean,  were  the  most  fertile  pastures  in  the  world.  On  those 
pastures  grazed  the  most  famous  cattle  in  the  world.  An  ox  often 
w'eighed  more  than  two  thousand  pounds.  The  cows  produced  two 
and  three  calves  at  a  time,  the  sheep  four  and  five  lambs.     In  a  sin- 


HOLLAND.  35 

gle  villa<je  four  tliousand  kiiic  were  counted.  Puillcr  and  cheese 
were  exported  to  the  annual  value  of  a  million,  salted  provisions  to 
an  incredible  extent.  The  farmers  were  industrious,  thriving-,  and 
independent.  It  is  an  amusing  illustration  of  the  agricultural  thrift 
and  republican  simplicity  of  this  people  that  on  one  occasion  a  far- 
mer pro]-)osed  to  Prince  Maurice  that  he  should  marry  his  daugliter, 
jiromising  with  her  a  dowry  of  a  hundred  thousand  florins." 

It  was  in  many  senses,  a  godsend  to  the  new 
hemisphere,  when  these  thrifty  habits  were  trans- 
ported to  America;  and  especially  when  tliere  came 
in  their  company,  those  quahties  of  manhood,  which 
are  yet  found  in  the  distinctive  characteristics  of  their 
descendants. 

Is  it  surprising,  therefore,  that  we  desired  a  close 
inspection  of  some  of  these  rare  results  of  this  indus- 
trious race? 

It  is  a  sisfnificant  and  ereat  fact  that  the  unseen 
world  has  had  most  to  do  with  moulding:  the  seen 
world.  Whether  in  art  or  arms,  that  which  lasts 
longest  as  historic  souvenirs  refers  to  the  religions 
of  mankind.  What  would  the  annals  of  the  Euro- 
pean people  be  without  the  cathedral  and  church  ? 
They  not  only  preserve,  but  are  in  themselves  relics. 
Pompeii  may  be  uncovered,  or  a  Viking  ship  dug 
from  the  sands;  but  such  instances  are  rare.  Go  into 
any  one  of  the  galleries  at  the  capitals  of  Europe. 
What  strikes  you  first  .'^  Is  it  not  the  innumerable 
throng,  with  their  repetitions,  of  biblical  themes  de- 
picted by  art  ?  Whether  it  be  Samson  or  Judith,  the 
massacre  of  the  Innocents  or  the  crucifixion  of  the 
Saviour,  the  figures  and  martyrdom  of  apostles  or 
the  bloody  battles  for  and  against  the  faith  and 
among  its  contending  zealots, — everywhere  there  is 
glorified  by  the  plastic  hand  of  genius,  representations 
of  the  spiritual  life  in  its  various  phases.  This  state- 
ment is  something  more   than  a  platitude  to  those 


36  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

who  walk  the  galleries  and  churches  abroad.  It 
sometimes  becomes  a  burden  to  a  traveller  who  de- 
sires in  each  country  to  see  peculiar  and  national 
characteristics  portrayed.  It  is  sometimes  a  relief 
even  to  find  an  old  classic  theme,  such  as  the  hateful 
figure  of  Silenus,  upon  the  canvas. 

Holland  is  not  altogether  an  exception  to  this 
rule.  Her  galleries  of  pictures  contain  much  of  bib- 
lical meaning  and  more  of  the  heroism  in  defence  of 
religion;  but,  of  all  the  countries  I  have  seen,  Hol- 
land has  less  of  this  iterative  quality  upon  spiritual 
subjects.  In  one  gallery  at  Leyden  we  saw  this  ex- 
emplified. There  was  a  picture  of  Job  and  his  friends, 
and  boils  all  over  the  patient  man;  Daniel  in  the  den, 
with  a  most  meek  and  lovely  trio  of  lions;  and  sev- 
eral pictorial  and  theological  apologues,  where  devils 
in  every  shape  of  hideousness  and  hell  in  every  kind 
of  devouring  flame  were  represented;  but  Holland, 
notwithstanding  these  instances,  is  most  distinguished 
for  her  own  local  color  in  art.  Her  art  never  failed 
to  catch  the  features  of  her  Burgomasters  and  Boers, 
with  all  the  lights  and  shades  of  her  town  and  country 
life.  In  manifold  detail,  from  pasture  to  kitchen,  from 
birth  to  death,  even  down  to  such  simple  particulars 
as  seem  too  mean  for  art,  the  Dutch  School  has 
excelled.  Whether  it  be  Paul  Potter  painting  his 
famous  bull,  or  Rembrandt  his  dissection  of  a 
cadaver,  or  Jans  Steen  some  of  his  comical,  homely 
studies,  the  domestic  in  Holland  predominates.  Her 
history  is  in  her  pictures. 

Amidst  the  advancing  elements  of  our  electric  and 
steam  civilization,  Holland  changes  less  than  any  other 
nation.  She  preserves  in  many  places,  most  dis- 
tinctly, her  old  costumes  and  habits  and  the  individu- 
ality and  simplicity  of  her  people.     The  steam-engine 


HOLLAND.  37 

may  be  clisturbinjr  many  old  and  picturesque  us- 
ages— such  as  the  windmill,  as  a  motor  to  pump  out 
the  meadows  and  keep  back  the  sea;  but  upon  her 
roads  and  canals,  at  her  fishing  isles,  and  in  her  cities 
and  cafes,  the  spirit  of  the  elder  time  prevails,  so  that 
he  who  runs  through  Holland  may  read  its  history. 

After  making  the  round  of  her  red-roofed  cities 
and  towns,  with  their  attractions — like  Leyden,  Haar- 
lem, the  Hague,  Scheveningen,  and  Amsterdam; 
after  seeing  in  pleasant  repetition,  her  grand  forests 
and  wide  meadows,  her  litde  gems  of  gardens  and 
their  variety  of  flowers,  her  marvellous  dykes  and 
windmills,  her  black  and  white  colored  cows  ad  iu- 
Jinitum,  and  her  newly- shorn  sheep  by  the  thousands 
we  resolve  to  see  the  inside  of  a  Dutch  dairy  farm 
and  its  house.  We  resolve  to  go  where  the  industries 
were  to  be  found,  consummate  in  those  prolific  results 
which  make  the  moral  quality  of  family  and  state;  and 
which  were  transported  to  New  York  two  hundred 
and  more  years  ago,  and  which  remain  to-day  as  fruit- 
ful as  ever  in  these  orreen  lowlands.  We  resolve  on  a 
day  among  the  meadows,  aloof  from  the  city,  after 
the  miracles  of  sunshine  and  rain  had  oriven  fresh  bios- 
som  and  a  resurrected  life. 

Accordingly,  in  this  middle  of  June,  with  the  aid 
of  our  Dutch  guide,  "  Yosef,"  we  procure  a  landau, 
as  a  precaution  against  the  rain,  and  start  for  a  famous 
cheese-farm  alonsf  the  canal  and  in  the  direction  of 
the  Zuyder  Zee.  We  Intend  to  make  a  useful  day 
of  it,  although  It  be  Sunday.  To  conform  to  the  cus- 
toms, one  must  here  seek  "  the  open  "  on  the  Sab- 
bath and  commune  with  Nature,  for  It  is  one  of  the 
curious  and  romantic  customs  of  the  Hollander  to 
have  his  gayly-painted  buytcplaats,  or  garden-house 
out  of  the  city,  where,  with  family,  pipe,  and  sweet 

434910 


38  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID, 

meditation,  he  may  sit,  drink,  and  smoke  until  the 
stroke  of  nine  on  his  cuckoo  clock  on  Monday 
morning  recalls  him  to  his  city  home  and  his  se- 
rious labor. 

Our  excursion  comprehended  three  things:  a  visit 
as  well  to  the  farmhouse  as  to  the  neat  villacres  of 
Broeck  and  Monnekedam  and  to  the  fishinor  isle  of 
Maarka.  These  meadows,  so  full  of  cattle  and  sheep, 
are  as  green  as  the  tiles  of  the  houses  are  red.  Some 
of  the  main  roads  for  fifty  miles  and  more  in  this 
country  are  made  of  hard-burnt  brick;  but  the  road 
we  take  is  a  good  pike  and  runs  along  the  canal,  on 
which  are  Sunday  boats  of  all  kinds,  out  for  a  gala 
day.  Now  and  then  we  pass  a  Boer  (peasant)  wagon, 
made  of  oak  or  painted  like  oak,  as  huge  as  a  Russian 
carriage  or  a  Jersey  wagon.  Lines  of  sand-hills,  or 
the  dykes,  and  now  and  then  a  "  little  risin'  greound," 
as  the  Yankee  traveller  described  the  Alps,  shut  in  the 
view.  Here  and  there  a  few  horses  are  seen  in  the 
field;  one  especially  disporting  himself,  to  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  sedate  kine,  by  chasing  a  big,  disgruntled 
hog  all  around  the  field. 

At  length,  five  miles  east  of  Amsterdam,  we  stop 
in  front  of  a  square  pyramidal  house,  mostly  roof  and 
cellar.  Its  roof  is  very  steep.  We  enter  a  long  hall, 
as  clean  as  a  well-scoured  copper  kettle  in  a  Dutch 
painting.  We  find  in  the  room  many  divisions,  like 
stalls.  They  are  well  sanded  and  shells  are  scattered 
in  the  sand.  Here  and  there  are  many-hued  stones, 
set  in  tasteful  fresco,  and  borders  of  brick,  painted  in 
red  and  black.  Then  a  pathway  is  laid  with  carpet 
over  the  bricks,  and  then  some  matting,  on  which 
we  walk.  The  long  hall  had  all  the  appearance  of  a 
varnished,  elegant,  decorated  gallery.  The  walls  were 
covered  with  plates,  pans,  and  pails,  in  rows  above, 


HOLLAND.  39 

vessels  of  all  kinds  of  contrivance  for  kitchen  and 
field,  polished  to  a  bri<^htness  whose  dazzlin^^  sheen 
is  only  to  be  found  in  the  pictures  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred as  illustrative  of  Dutch  home-life,  or  in  the  fa- 
bled diamond  shield  which  Spenser  i^ives  to  Prince 
Arthur  in  b'aerie-land.  This  hall  of  the  colors — with 
its  domestic  garniture  of  scales,  weights,  ware,  shells, 
pipes,  cradles,  and  tubs,  all  as  neat  as  a  fresh-laid 
^g<g — is  a  cow-stable!  Aye,  verily.  This  is  sum- 
mer, and  the  cows  are  out  on  the  yellow-decked 
meadows.  Their  winter-home  is  dressed  thus  clean- 
ly and  gaudily  for  the  family  in  summer.  These 
divisions  are  for  thirty-eight  milk-cows,  and  certain 
conveniences  appear,  on  close  inspection,  for  their 
housing-  beneath  the  orlistening^  and  colored  exterior 
of  this  summer  dress.  We  pass  into  another  apart- 
ment. It  is  cool,  sweet  and  neat.  We  are  conducted 
by  a  young  son,  the  family  being  out  on  a  Sabbath 
excursion.  He  points  out — in  a  few  Dutch  phrases, 
that  sound  a  good  deal  English,  being  homely  words 
— this  and  that  piece  of  utility  for  making  cheese. 
Here  are  fifty  nice,  round,  yellow,  fat  cheeses,  salted 
down  in  lonQf  basins  and  undero-oincj  hardenino^. 
They  are  the  same  seen  in  the  shops  in  their  bright 
red  color,  and  when  cut — as  we  cut  one  of  them  for 
our  lunch — gave  their  golden  beauty  to  the  eye  and 
their  lusciousness  to  the  tooth  and  tongue. 

The  various  stages  of  the  milk  until  it  reaches  this 
delectable  form  is  explained  to  us,  as  lid  after  lid  is 
lifted  from  the  casks.  In  this  cheese-hall  are  mirrors 
and  other  articles  of  domestic  use.  There,  attached 
to  the  wall,  is  a  knife  to  "sknide"  the  bread,  and 
here,  hanging  over  a  fireplace,  where  smoulders  some 
peat,  are  two  octagonal  brass  medallions,  -nearly  a  foot 
in  diameter.     I  ask  their  meaning.     "  Only  lessons," 


40  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  gentle  youth  responds.  I  read  them:  ''Die  op 
God  ver  troudt  heef  opgeeii  Zerk  of  Steen   Geboicdt." 

"  What  is  that,  Joseph  ?  " 

He  translates:  "  He  who  thinks  of  God,  God  will 
think  of  him."  A  splendid  lesson  for  any  kind  of  fac- 
tory, cheese  or  otherwise.  Here  is  the  other:  ''  Hoo- 
(Toni  Hoo^  het  hardtnaar  boven  hier  benedeis  het  Niet!' 
The  free  translation  of  Joseph  is:  "  Mount!  Mount 
upward!  There  is  nothing  below  here  !  "  How  near 
this  translation  comes  to  the  spirit  of  the  strange  dec- 
oration in  this  establishment  let  the  learned  Dutchmen 
determine.  I  offered  the  boy  a  guilder  for  the  two 
lessons,  and  may  hang  them  up  in  my  committee- 
room  at  Washington,  for  instruction,  that  the  members 
"  may  be  thoroughly  furnished  unto  all  good  works." 

Out  of  this  resplendent  cow-stable,  up  a  few  steps 
and  under  the  same  roof,  and  we  are  in  the  house 
proper.  We  soon  ascertain  that  the  family  are  Cath- 
olic and  every  symbol  of  their  faith  is  about  the 
rooms.  "  St.  Pawet "  is  the  favorite  saint.  Joseph 
and  Mary  appear  in  China  images;  as  also  copies  of 
the  Madonna  by  Murillo,  with  a  beautiful  little  altar 
and  holy  candles,  ready  for  lighting.  A  book  of 
prayer  lies  upon  a  splendid  old  sideboard  of  exquisite 
workmanship.  Before  the  bed;  which  is  within  the 
wall,  stowed  as  on  shelves,  is  a  cup  of  holy  water  and 
every  evidence  of  a  most  pious  regard  for  their  faith 
appears  amidst  a  profusion  of  tasteful  imagery  of 
every  kind.  One  thing  we  notice  within  the  bed- 
curtains — a  rope  and  handle  for  the  rheumatic  or  lazy 
to  raise  themselves.  Also  within  the  bed — a  good 
sample  of  Dutch  neatness — were  the  dresses,  hung 
up  to  be  cleaned  and  when  brushed,  to  be  put  away  in 
bureaus,  with  a  tidiness  that  was  painful  to  the  ordi- 
nary American  mind.     Canary  cages,  pipes,  and  pic- 


HOLLAND.  41 

turcs  of  the  sad  fate  of  Genevieve,  together  witli  the 
inevitable  I3Litch  clock  and  a  good  portrait  of  the 
present  pope,  make  up  a  toiit-ciiscnible  of  this  Dutch 
household.  When  we  entered  this  sanctuary  of  neat- 
ness and  piety,  I  noticed  the  boy  drop  his  wooden 
shoes  at  the  door,  as  if  he  trod  on  consecrated  ground. 
He  moved  about  as  Moslems  do  within  their  mosques, 
unsandaled  and  reverent. 

We  oo  out  to  see  the  surroundino^s.  There  is  the 
canal  at  several  angles,  and  the  geese  and  ducks.  In 
a  stable  are  the  little  black  and  white  calves;  and  near 
by,  but  not  unpleasant,  as  we  feared,  is  the  pig-sty. 
The  walls  of  the  house  were  covered  with  grape- 
vines, and  altogether  the  outside  was  a  fair  counter- 
part of  the  inside. 

Entering  our  carriage,  we  prepare  on  the  way  a 
locomotive  al  fresco  lunch,  with  the  cheese  made 
within  this  pious  home  as  the  pPcce  de  resistance,  and 
some  champagne,  which  gave  its  sparkle  to  the  sun- 
shine. Over  bridges,  past  the  green  fields  and  hedges, 
surveying  numberless  cattle,  we  reach  the  quaint  vil- 
laoe  of  Monnekedam.  Here  we  leave  our  team  to 
feed  and  take  a  fishing-boat  for  the  Isle  of  Maarka. 
The  boat,  or  its  captain  and  mate,  had  been  advised 
by  telegraph  to  be  ready.  They,  boat  and  all,  are 
in  Sabbath  rig.  Upon  the  bridge,  when  we  sail. 
are  crowds  of  villagers,  in  their  native  costumes,  as 
curious  about  us  as  we  are  about  them. 

An  hour's  sail  over  the  Zuyder  Zee,  and  we  are 
within  the  piles  which  make  a  tiny  harbor  to  this 
quaint  isle.  How  flat  everything  looks !  The  houses 
are,  indeed,  like  pyramids,  as  we  cannot  see  their 
lower  story  over  the  dykes.  Even  the  windmills 
(there  are  ten  thousand  of  them  in  Holland)  are 
seen  in  their  wings,  as  they  swing  defiandy  at  any 


42  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Don  who  presumes  to  challenge  them.  The  cap- 
tain cannot  speak  a  word  of  English;  but  we  have 
a  medium  in  Joseph.  He  translates  to  us  a  story  of 
the  captain's,  about  ten  thousand  Spanish  coins  being 
fished  out  of  the  Zuyder  Zee  a  week  before  by  a  net. 
We  ask  him  if  it  was  "  not  a  miraculous  draught." 
He  appreciates  the  allusion.  We  ask:  "  Were  the 
coins  in  the  fishes'  mouth  ?  "  Again  he  shows  his 
apostolic  and  piscatorial  education  by  a  significant 
smile.  We  talk,  albeit  it  is  Sunday,  of  the  dams  of 
Holland,  and  how  the  vast  meadows  but  thirty  years 
before  were  a  part  of  the  Zuyder  Zee,  with  its  saline 
sterility;  of  the  future  projects  to  rescue  more  acres; 
and  at  last  we  are  moored  within  the  little  Bay  of 
Maarka,  where  terrene  objects  appear. 

The  isle  has  but  a  few  hundred  folk  on  it.  Within 
the  harbor,  in  perfect  rows,  like  the  plates  in  the  cow- 
stable,  are  a  hundred  fishing  vessels,  with  nets  dang- 
ling and  drying  from  the  masts.  All  the  houses  are 
upon  tiles.  Every  door  is  open  and  all  the  popula- 
tion are  out  to  receive  us.  Somehow,  the  villagers 
have  gained  the  impression  that  "  we  "  are  a  digni- 
tary from  a  "  far  contree."  I  think  Joseph  has  dii- 
fused  this  costly  idea. 

The  men  look  odd,  in  their  caps  and  baggy 
breeches.  There  is  enough  of  stuff  in  one  pair 
for  a  half  dozen  of  mine.  The  women  wear  kir- 
tles,  gathered  into  belts  at  the  waist,  with  three- 
cornered  ties  at  the  neck,  and  caps.  Such  caps ! 
They  did  not  have  the  silver  or  gold  cuirass  upon  the 
head,  and  the  dangling  metalic  balls,  spirals,  and  jewel- 
lery over  hair,  ears,  and  cheek,  like  the  fisherwomen 
we  saw  about  Scheveningen;  but  still  these  islanders 
have  the  costumes  of  the  Pays  Bas,  and  they  seemed 
as  if  just  out  of  the  ark,  in  their  primitive  simplicity. 


HOLLAND.  43 

We  had  seen  female  Kabyles  in  Africa  and  the 
gay  dames  in  interior  Corsica,  and  had  visited  their 
hovels  and  housc^s;  but  for  neatness  and  oddity  we 
never  saw  in  all  our  travels  such  (|uaint  devices  to 
make  the  gentler  sex  attractive. 

But  who  can  describe  the  children  here,  of  both 
sexes  ?  You  cannot  tell  one  sex  from  the  other  by 
the  dress  or  looks,  except  this,  that  on  the  neat  little 
cap  on  their  heads  is  a  patch  for  the  boys  and  none 
for  the  girls !  All  wear  the  wooden  shoe.  The  young 
maidens  are  out  in  their  Sunday  clothes — colored  and 
figured  silk  bodices  of  red,  white  sleeves,  and  the 
plain  linen  band,  a  la  Turkish,  over  the  forehead. 
They  are  quite  coquettish.  As  we  land,  they 
rush  up  to  us  and  introduce,  with  much  hilarity, 
a  newly -married  couple.  The  bridegroom  wears, 
for  a  mark  of  recent  subjectivity,  a  stovepipe  hat. 
This,  with  his  big,  bulgy  pants,  gives  the  impression 
of  a  sober,  melancholy  Piute  just  off  the  reservation. 
He  carries  about  in  his  mouth  a  long,  white  clay 
pipe,  decorated  with  white  and  red  flowers.  He  is 
not  allowed  to  smoke.  He  looks  sheepish  as  he  is 
presented,  while  the  bride  looks  radiant  and  mis- 
chievous in  her  yellow  hair,  banged  to  her  eyebrows 
and  curled  above  them,  to  give  a  strangeness  never 
even  conceived  by  a  Dutch  painter  of  the  grotesque. 
Her  cheeks  are  lilies  and  roses.  Roses  ?  Peonies, 
and  full-blown!  Such  cheeks!  such  ultra-marine  blue 
to  the  eye !  Such  awkwardness  of  gait  as  these 
images  of  the  twelfth  century  have,  as  they  move 
about  their  isle  in  groups,  with  knuckles  on  their 
hips  and  their  arms  akimbo !  You  cannot  find  their 
counterpart  at  Castle  Garden  ;  for  this  is  Sunday  at 
home  and  they  are  in  their  best  traditional  clothes, 
and  these  never  appear  at  our  port  of  entry.     My 


44  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

wife  caught  one  of  the  little  elfs,  to  examine  the  make 
of  her  cap.  After  a  few  preliminary  tears,  and  much 
fluttering,  and  a  piece  of  coin  from  my  pocket,  the 
litde  girl  held  still  long  enough  to  show  that  the  in- 
side of  the  head-dress  was  a  white  cap  and  over  it 
one  of  red,  but  smaller.  Their  little  bodices  are  be- 
yond my  power  to  photograph.  Every  one  bows, 
with  a  "  Guteu  Di7g,"  the  men  lifting  the  index  fin- 
ger to  their  yellow  hair. 

We  are  requested  to  visit  the  biggest  woman  on 
the  island.  She  weighed  two  hundred  pounds  when 
eleven  }ears !  She  is  now  fifty  years  of  age.  I 
shudder  before  the  adipose  conclusion.  Arithmetic 
is  confounded!  She  is  a  monster;  but  she  got  about 
her  little,  neat  house  to  show  us  her  cabinet,  two 
hundred  years  old,  from  her  great-grandmother. 
Joseph  was  jolly  about  her  fat  hand.  She  inti- 
mated to  him  that,  if  he  felt  it,  it  would  surprise 
him  still  more. 

The  population  followed  us  to  the  boat.  We 
threw  coins  to  the  children,  who,  like  other  mortals, 
had  a  scrabble  for  them;  then  a  quarrel;  then  a  con- 
vocation and  an  equitable  arrangement;  and,  thus 
leaving  these  primitive  folks,  we  sailed  over  the 
Zyyder  Zee,  by  the  pleasant  light  of  a  sweet  Sab- 
bath evening. 

On  our  way,  we  visited  the  village  of  Broeck. 
At  all  the  doors  the  shoes  were  out  when  the  people 
were  in.  It  is  not  true  that  carriages  are  forbidden 
in  this  town ;  but  it  is  true  that  the  streets  are  as  neat 
as  the  inside  of  the  houses,  and  they  are  the  perfec- 
tion of  cleanliness.  The  town  has  nine  hundred  peo- 
ple. They  are  well  off,  too.  Their  costumes  shov/ 
quaintness,  but  refinement.  The  houses  are  wooden 
and  [)aintcd  of  various  colors.     The  tiles  are  polished. 


HOLLAND. 


45 


The  streets  arc  of  brick,  or  little  stones  painted  and 
set  in  patterns.  It  is  said  that  even  the  kino-  had  to 
take  off  his  boots  when  o-oinir  into  l}r()eck.  No  such 
requisition  was  made  of  us,  sovereign  though  we 
were. 

We  pass  near  Zaandani,  where  Peter  the  Great 
learned  ship-building.  It  is  also  clean,  almost  to  a 
sense  of  the  ridiculous. 

As  we  leave  for  the  mainland,  some  two  hundred 
of  the  good  people  give  us  a  hurrah.  Whether  they 
had  forgotten  that  it  was  Sunday,  or  whether  they 
exaggerated  our  importance, — we  dashed  out  of  this 
part  of  Dutchland  in  a  style  that  would  chagrin  an 
African  potentate. 

On  our  way  back,  we  made  a  Sabbath  call  at  the 
famous  "  Bible  House "  of  Amsterdam.  Over  the 
canal  we  had  seen  the  sign,  and  that  it  was  kept 
by  "  Hardenbergh."  We  knew  this  already  from 
our  brother-in-law,  son  of  the  late  Dr.  Hardenbergh, 
of  New  York.  He  was  of  the  descendants  of  the 
old  Dutch  stock.  Though  I  will  not  avouch  that 
any  of  the  family  kept  a  hotel,  but  that  they  did 
and  do  keep  a  Bible,  I  am  prepared  to  assert.  The 
object  of  our  visit  is  seen  as  a  sign — an  open  Bible, 
gilt-edged — over  the  hospitable  door  of  this  ancient 
hostelry.  But  the  elderly  aspect  of  the  hotel  is  not 
so  apparent.  Nor  is  the  continence  which  belongs 
to  early  Christianity  and  a  Bible  House  observable 
within,  for  everything  toothsome  and  bibulous  in  a 
French  memt  or  a  Dutch  larder  may  here  be  had. 
Strawberries  and  chops,  champagne  and  asparagus; 
and  plenty  of  cheerful  talk  in  a  pentecostal  polyglot, 
by  travellers  from  every  clime.  Ushered  into  the 
lunch-room  overlooking  the  River  Amstel,  we  call 
for  all  we  want,  includinof  the  earliest  Bible  known  to 


46  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Dutch  art.  We  examine  the  sacred,  doubly  sacred 
vokime,  its  quaint  wood-cuts,  and  its  strange  trade- 
mark of  the  printer;  and,  turning  from  the  singular 
wine-cooler  at  our  feet  to  the  inspired  Word  at  our 
elbow,  we  wonder  not  a  little  that  a  hotel  should  be 
a  Bible  House;  and  yet,  all  reverently  may  I  not  say 
it,  in  this  connection. — we  see  shining  through  these 
old  types  and  shadows  of  the  past  the  light  of  a  calm 
and  beautiful  inspiration  for  a  life  "  beyond  the  stars," 
to  be  pursued  with  the  calm  and  constant  courage 
of  those  who  gave  to  Holland  its  charters  of  in- 
dependence and  this  Book  of  books. 

I  ask  the  custodian  of  the  sacred  volume  for  its 
history  and  that  of  the  house  where  we  find  it.  This 
it  is,  as  I  gather  it  from  his  manuscript: 

"The  earliest  record  that  can  be  traced  of  the  Bible  Hotel  is  that 
Jacob  Van  Liesveld,  on  the  site  of  the  present  hotel,  had  a  printing 
establishment.  It  was  in  this  building  that  he  printed  and  published 
the  first  Bible  issued  in  Holland,  a  copy  of  which,  dated  1542,  is  still 
in  possession  of  the  Hotel  and  is  the  one  before  us." 

It  is  in  excellent  preservation,  being  protected  by 
a  modern  binding.  It  is  a  valuable  and  beautiful 
specimen  of  early  printing.  In  fact,  to  my  idea,  it 
surpasses  many  vaunted  recent  editions  which  I  have 
seen. 

DurincT  the  workincr  of  the  Reformation  in  Hoi- 
land,  it  is  said  that  Jacob  Van  Liesveld,  in  conse- 
quence of  his  religious  views,  was  forced  to  leave 
Holland,  and  effected  his  escape  through  one  of  the 
back  windows  of  this  house.  He  was  successful  in 
reaching  Antwerp,  where,  however,  his  ill  fortune  fol- 
lowed him,  as  it  is  recorded  that,  shortly  after  his  ar- 
rival there,  he  was  summoned  before  the  authorities, 
was  found  guilty,  and  executed.  The  account  further 
says  that,  from  the  hands  of  Van  Liesveld,  the  prem- 


HOLLAND.  47 

ises  passed  into  the  possession  of  a  Scotch  family, 
bearing-  the  name  of  Cattcrmerole,  the  first  of  whom 
converted  the  building  into  an  inn,  and,  with  the  na- 
tional shrewdness,  and  with  a  view,  it  is  supposed,  of 
making  some  capital  out  of  his  godliness,  the  build- 
ing was  consecrated  by  his  sign  of  "  The  Bible  "  and 
by  painting  upon  the  sign  the  twenty-third  verse  of 
the  fifth  chapter  of  St.  Paul's  First  Episde  to  Timothy: 

"Drink  no  longer  water, 
But  take  a  little  wine." 

This  is  the  style  in  which  the  account  was  given  me 
in  writing.  It  was  also  remarked  in  this  account  that 
the  same  sign  which  now  does  duty,  was  carved  on 
wood  by  Cattermerole  the  First,  after  the  build- 
inof  had  been  in  the  hands  of  Van  Liesveld.  It 
w^as  held  by  the  Cattermeroles  until  fifteen  years 
ago.  Then  it  w^as  taken  by  Mr.  Hardenberg,  Sen- 
ior, w^ho  was  succeeded  by  his  son.  To  what  worldly 
uses  it  has  been  put  since  the  death  of  the  son,  by 
the  present  proprietor,  Mr.  Werker,  is  advertised 
by  the   paper,  in  the   following   peculiar   conclusion; 

"Said  Mr.  Werker  continues  still  to  introduce  improvement  and 
embellishment,  so  as  to  render  the  house,  if  possible,  more  comfort- 
able and  attractive." 

"  Copied  for  Sir  S.  S.  Cox, 
/  by  Rudolf  Jonas, 

Oberkellner, 

Bible  Hotel, 

from  Cologne  on  the  Rhine." 

With  this  kindly  efifort  by  this  gargon  and  scriv- 
ener who  supplied  us  at  the  Bible  House  and  whose 
office  may  be  deciphered  from  his  manuscript,  I  must 
close  these  chapters  by  remarking  that  no  people 
which  in  my  various  wanderings  I  have  witnessed 
can   compare   in   interest  wath  those  of  this  strange 


48  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

land.  Besides,  has  not  the  land  itself  been  rescued 
from  Neptune  by  the  genius  and  preserved  by  the 
vigilance  of  a  hardy  and  honest  people  ?  In  the 
daily  beauty  of  their  industrious  lives  is  exemplified 
the  verse  of  Longfellow: 

"Each  morning  sees  some  task  begun, 
Each  evening  sees  it  close; 
Something  attempted,  something  done 
Has  earned  a  night's  repose." 

They  may  have  no  conspicuous  annals  just  now 
in  this  year  of  grace  1881.  Happy  is  that  nation 
that  has  no  annals.  True,  they  have  no  part  to  play 
now  in  the  conflicts  of  Europe.  Their  possessions  in 
the  East  and  West  Indies  are  held  quietly  and  pros- 
perously; their  peasant  offspring  (the  Boers)  have 
illustrated  in  South  Africa,  against  British  encroach- 
ment, the  same  qualities  which  resisted  Spanish  tyr- 
anny and  insolence  three  hundred  years  ago,  and 
which  dared  to  found  its  colonies  under  new  skies, 
like  our  own  Nieuw  Amsterdam,  by  fixing  their  foun- 
dations on  piety  and  probity. 


CHAPTER   V. 

ON  THE  WAY  TO  THE  FAR  NORTH— FROM  HOLLAND  TO  DEN- 
MARK—AND FROM  COPENHAGEN  TO  CHRISTIANLA.,  NORWAY. 

"Rath  of  the  Dane  to  fame  a7id  might, 
Dark-rolling  iva^'e  !  " — Longfellow. 

IT  was  not  without  reluctance  that  we  left  the  Hotel 
Amstel,  at  Amsterdam.  Holland  had  begun  to 
grow  upon  us.  The  limnhig  we  had  made  of  its  fea- 
tures, had  assumed  color  and  brightness.  The  Yery 
hotel  where  the  invalid  Swedish  queen  was  staying, 
was  adorned,  in  its  stairways  and  corridors  with  flow- 
ers, whose  fragrance  filled  the  air.  However,  the 
day  is  fixed  for  the  grand  phenomenon  in  the  Boreal 
country,  beyond  the  Arctic  Circle;  and  luxury  and 
comfort  must  give  way  to  early  rising  and  extended 
travel.  It  was  a  long  ride  to  Hamburg, — the  third 
commercial  emporium  of  Europe.  The  landscape 
is  level,  cut  up  with  canals  and  cultivated  with 
tasteful  if  not  remunerative  toil.  Before  ten  at 
night  our  eyes  behold  the  double  and  reflected 
lights  and  gay  aspect  around  the  lake,  in  the  heart 
of  Hamburg.  The  morning  view  from  our  balcon}' 
is  lovely,  with  the  dawn  at  three;  and  at  breakfast  we 
pass  the  custom-house  at  Altona.  The  long  day 
through  the  former  Danish  provinces  of  Schleswig 
and  Holstein  is  shortened  by  the  novelty  of  the 
scenes;  though  miles  of  peat  beds  and  hundreds  of 


50  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

windmills,  appear  monotonous  after  a  few  hours  of 
gazing.  Numerous  small  water-wheels  are  pumping 
water  into  ditches  out  of  the  peat  beds;  and  unculti- 
vated moors  add  to  the  monotony.  One  incident 
happened.  We  left  our  umbrella  in  the  cars;  and  as 
an  illustration  of  the  regard  to  the  nicuin  et  tuuin, 
which  obtains  among  these  people,  we  afterwards 
found  it  at  our  hotel  in  Norway,  forwarded  as  if  it 
were  actual  property,  and  at  a  cost  too  small  to 
record ! 

Denmark  is  made  up  of  isles.  Consequently  boat- 
riding  alternates  and  relieves  the  rail  cars.  We  cross 
by  steamer,  the  two  "  Belts;  "  and  without  much  in- 
cident, we  reach  Copenhagen,  by  bedtime.  English 
is  everywhere  spoken  on  the  route,  and  the  officers 
on  boat  and  rail,  are  examples  of  attentive  courtesy 
Indeed,  politeness  is  the  chief  characteristic  of  the 
Dane,  which  he  supplements  with  a  love  of  pleasure, 
which  has  earned  for  Copenhagen,  the  soubriquet 
of  the  Vienna  of  the  north. 

It  was  not  our  purpose  to  linger  long  in  Den- 
mark. The  time  for  sailing  toward  the  North  Cape 
being  inexorably  fixed,  we  prepared  to  ignore  this 
gay  and  interesting  city.  Our  plan  was  in  part 
frustrated,  and  we  determined  to  see  something  of 
this  chief  city  of  the  three  realms  which  make  up  the 
ten  millions  of  Scandinavians.  But  that  something 
can  only  be  herein  hinted.  A  week  we  gave  to 
Copenhagen;  and  we  deducted  it  from  the  unpleasant 
sea  voyages,  from  Copenhagen  to  Christiana,  and 
from  Christiania  to  Bergen  and  Trondhjem.  We 
reasoned  that  there  was  less  resistance  to  locomotion 
in  the  air  and  on  the  earth,  than  in  the  air  and  by 
water.  Besides,  had  we  not  had  some  ocean  ex- 
periences,  which   we   were   not   desirous   to  repeat.'* 


OiV    THE     IFAV    TO     THE    FAR    NOR  TIT. 


5' 


This, — added  to  the  bad  reputation  of  the  Cateq^at, 
Skayer-Rack  and  North  Sea,  for  stability,  led  us  to 
linger  in  the  Danish  capital,  and  to  make  our  way 
by  land,  through  south-western  Sweden. 

Our  courier  here  has  proved  an  invaluable  guide 
and  companion.  His  name  is  Rene.  He  is  a  Dane, 
and  quite  unlike  in  his  spirit  to  the  melancholy  Ham- 
let. Yet  he  is  philosophical  withal,  and  has  a  su- 
preme contempt  for  the  tragedy  which  Shakespeare 
has  located  at  Elsinore,  among  the  windmills  on  that 
stern  and  stormy  steep !  He  does  not  believe  in 
ghosts,  nor  the  cock  that  crowed  for  their  depart- 
ure to  the  tomb  at  dawn,  but  he  affirms  that  Ham- 
let was  a  Prince  of  Jutland.  He  admits  that  the 
father  was  poisoned,  and  that  his  death  was  revenged 
Dy  the  son.  Rene  has  been  an  opera  singer  in  the 
chorus,  and  can  talk  in  several  tongues.  He  is  mas- 
ter of  the  languages  of  Scandinavia,  and,  being  adept 
in  German,  French,  and  English,  he  is  master  of 
our  situation.  He  regulates  with  equal  skill  our 
customs  duties  and  our  exchequer. 

The  most  attractive  feature  of  Copenhagen,  is 
the  Thorwaldsen  Gallery.  In  a  city  of  two  hundred 
thousand  people — full  of  museums  of  art  and  science, 
and  edifices  for  education  and  library — surrounded 
by  pleasure  grounds  of  rare  trees  and  taste,  with 
groups  of  water-ways  and  lakes;  with  a  restless  and 
joyous  people,  ever  busy  on  the  marts  of  commerce 
and  in  the  factory  and  shop, — it  is  noteworthy  and 
praiseworthy,  that  the  pervading  genuLS  loci,  is  the 
name,  fame  and  work  of  its  great  and  gifted  artist. 
The  churches  are  not  more  conspicuous, — the  towered 
Vor  Frelsero  overlookino-  the  harbor  on  the  Armao^er 
Isle,  not  more  commanding,  the  spired  exchange  not 
more  supreme,  as  external  attractions,  than  the  univer- 


52  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

sal  domination  over  Danish  thought  and  pride,  of  the 
Icelandic  ship-carpenter's  son, — the  pupil  of  Canova, 
Thorwaldsen.  The  museum  was  arranged  by  him- 
self, on  his  return  to  Copenhagen  from  Rome.  It 
contains  three  hundred  of  his  pieces.  It  is  his  mau- 
soleum. His  studio  and  unfinished  work  are  in  the 
gallery.  His  industry,  as  exhibited  here,  is  only 
rivalled  by  his  "  fine  art."  We  are  carried  honie  in 
fancy,  by  seeing  amidst  this  rare  assemblage  of  his 
creations, — the  original  of  his  Venus,^a  copy  of 
which  in  pure  Carrara,  adorns  our  library. 

While' wandering  within  this  Pompeian  and  Etrus- 
can architecture,  our  guide  happens  to  mention  that 
the  Folksthing  and  Lanthing — which  combined  make 
the  Parliament, — is  in  session.  How  quickly  the  en- 
chantment of  Art  dissolved  before  this  temptation ! 
Being  interested  in  law-making  at  home,  and  espe- 
cially in  having  a  commodious  and  convenient  cham- 
ber, under  our  forthcoming  reapportionment,  I  desert 
Thorwaldsen's  marble  glories,  for  the  forum.  The 
chambers  are  of  the  ordinary  kind,  semi-circular, 
with  the  throne  and  chair  of  royalty  at  the  end;  and 
the  seat  of  "  Mr.  Speaker  "  beneath.  A  finance  ques- 
tion was  under  debate  in  both  branches;  but  the  dis- 
cussion was  not  as  inflammatory  as  the  red  velvet 
trimmings,  nor  as  boisterous  as  those  in  the  French 
Deputies  and  English  Parliament,  which  I  had  visited 
a  few  weeks  before. 

We  visit  the  Prindseus  palace  gallery.  It  is  very 
large,  having  more  than  twenty  rooms.  The  mas- 
ters are  of  the  new  schools.  Their  names  are  novel 
and  most  of  them  Danish.  We  are  reminded  of  our 
exjjected  delight,  by  a  rare  painting  of  the  midnight 
sun. — in  the  very  acme  of  its  "  afterglow."  The 
Round  Tower,  one  of  the  six  now  in  existence,  we 


ON    THE    WAY    TO    THE    FAR    NORTH.  53 

perceive  on  our  drive  about  the  city.  It  is  nine  sto- 
ries, with  small  mullioned  windows,  and  was  doubt- 
less a  fortress  of  the  early  years. 

In  reviewino^  this  week  of  pleasure,  nothing  seems 
to  excel,  in  exultant  delight,  the  drive  to  the  wa- 
tering place  five  miles  away.  It  is  a  small  village;  but 
the  excursion  takes  us  through  the  deer  park,  \\here 
a  thousand  antlered  timidities  await  the  royal  chase. 
It  is  a  wonderful  forest.  The  trees  are  tall  and  state- 
ly, and  hoar  with  the  rime  of  time.  Many  trees 
spring  from  one  root  or  trunk;  and  for  twisted  and 
antique  grotesqueness  they  vie  with  the  olives  of 
the  Riviera  and  the  Orient.  One  big  tree  is  shown 
in  a  pretty  garden,  not  tall  like  our  Mariposa  giants; 
but  eiofht  lonor- armed  Danes  cannot  touch  hands 
about  it! 

Palaces  there  are  here,  with  statued  historic  forms 
about  them, — where  king,  prince  and  queen-dow- 
ager now  live;  and  where  much  ostentatious  gay- 
ety  reigned,  before  dynamitic  Nihilism  disturbed 
the  nerve-centres  of  royal  content,  in  Russia  and 
Germany.  Among  these  palaces  is  that  of  Rosen- 
berg, to  which  we  dedicated  an  afternoon.  It  is  in 
a  lovely  garden.  The  park  near  by,  is  remembered 
by  us,  because  in  it  there  is  a  bust  of  Andersen — the 
beloved.  The  palace  is  full  of  royal  souvenirs,  set  in 
precious  gems.  Only  twelve  persons  are  allowed 
to  enter  the  palace  at  a  time.  This  is  out  of  abun- 
dant caution.  There  is  a  discreet  and  elegant  ar- 
rangement, according  to  each  reign,  of  these  quaint 
associations  of  Danish  regality.  The  rooms  are  fres- 
coed. They  look  coarse  and  tawdry  in  their  ornamen- 
tation; but  the  old  cabinets  and  clocks,  ceramics  and 
coins,  Sevres  sets  and  Danish  dresses,  Delft,  Dan- 
ish and  Chinese  porcelain,   make  a  fine  display  on 


54  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  walls;  while  horns,  swords,  orders,  tables,  chan- 
deliers, QToblets,  vases,  chairs,  christening  fonts,  her- 
aldic  lions  and  silver  hand-irons,  and  globes  of  gold 
and  jewels  beyond  price,  glitter  amidst  portraits  of 
the  Christians  and  Fredericks,  who  furnish  most  of 
the  buried  majesty  of  Denmark!  There  is  here 
much  sportive  and  eccentric  imagery,  illustrative 
of  mythological  and  mediaeval  subjects. 

The  most  celebrated  memorial  in  this  curious 
Gothic-antique  palace — not  to  mention  its  perforated 
turrets,  crenulated  gables,  winding  staircases,  and 
pointed  roofs — is  the  Oldenborg  horn.  It  is  of  sil- 
ver, and  enoraved  with  wondrous  skill.  Dras^ons  and 
serpents,  towers  and  tombs,  balconies  with  fair  ladies, 
and  castles  with  devices  and  banners  make  it  a  mir- 
acle of  art.  There  is  upon  the  knob,  a  little  tempting 
imp.  He  holds  a  scroll.  On  it  is  written:  Drinc  al 
rot:  "  Empty  the  horn  " !  This  is  the  origin  of  our 
American  expression:    Take  a  horn  ! 

This  horn  was  made  by  a  Westphalian;  although 
there  is  a  merry  myth,  that  it  was  given  by  a  moun- 
tain nymph  to  a  count  of  Oldenborg,  when  he  was 
lost  in  the  woods  hunting,  and  when  he  was  thirsty. 

This  palace  was  built  by  Christian  IV.  His  room 
and  workshop  are  still  shown.  By  all  accounts,  and 
from  the  portraits,  we  observe  that  this  Christian  was 
a  man  of  taste  in  architecture  and  art,  with  a  genius 
for  good  government. 

"  But,  Rene,  hold!"  we  exclaim,  as  we  stand  be- 
fore the  contrast  of  this  good  Christian,  "  who  is  this 
swash-buckler  ?     A  king  ?  " 

Rene  smiles  a  proud  smile  as  he  responds,  "  That 
was  one  of  our  great  kings — Christian  II," 

Then  recalling  the  memory  of  these  kings,  I  try 
the    patriotism   of  Rene   in   the   crucible   of  history. 


ON    THE     WAY    TO    THE    FAR    NORTH.  55 

Havino;'  been  in  the  opera,  and  being  a  professor 
and  a  Dane,  he  is  alarmed  at  the  scaiidalimi  magna- 
tutn  whicli  this  crucible  develops. 

"  You  have  had  a  sad  lot  of  sovereio^ns  in  Den- 
mark,  not  meaning  the  present  one  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  It  is  a  mistake.  Did  we  not  do  well 
in  choosing  our  rulers?  When  the  Bavarian  Christo- 
pher was  about  to  die,  he  proposed  for  us  Adol- 
phus  of  Schleswig;  and  when  he  declined  and  gave 
the  choice  among  three  nephews  of  the  Oldenborg- 
horn  family,  did  we  not  elect  wisely;  first,  in  rejecting 
the  one  who  was  fond  of  women  and  the  other  who 
was  devoted  to  war;  and  finally,  chose  the  peaceful 
and  generous  Diderick  the  Happy  ?  This  was  four 
hundred  years  and  more  ago.  This  choice  was 
Christian  I.,  who  united  Scandinavia.  He  had  a 
little  son,  John.  When  he  was  married  the  oc- 
casion called  for  a  new  order.  It  was  the  Order 
of  the  Elephant."  He  pointed  to  the  ivory  elephant 
near  by. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  can  see  by  the  heavy  weight 
of  John's  son  (Christian  II.),  why  this  Order  of  the 
Elephant  was  instituted." 

"Then,"  resumed  Rene,  "there  were  troubles. 
The  Hanse  towns  were  jealous,  and  Germany  bel- 
ligerent. Christian  I.  died  exactly  four  tiundred 
years  ago  last  May,  and  little  Hans  came  in,  to 
find  war  on  every  hand.  And  when  Hans  (John) 
died, — " 

"Then  came,"  said  I,  "the  swash-buckler  before 
us.  Christian  II.?  Hey?  What  good  did  he  do? 
Listen,  noble  Dane !  Is  he  not  known  as  the  Ty- 
rant ?  Was  he  not  the  opposite  of  his  father  ?  Was 
not  Cromwell  a  gentle  prince  compared  with  him  ? 
He  was   born  two   years    before    Luther;    and   was 


56  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

there  ever  a  Reformer  so  needed  for  such  a — Chris- 
tian ?  Was  he  not  put  out  to  a  pious  bookbinder  ? 
Was  he  not  taken  by  him  to  church,  and  made  to 
sing  in  the  choir  for  discipHne  ?  Did  not  a  Norse 
<^irl,  daughter  of  an  inn-keeper,  capture  and  hokl 
him;  and  did  he  not  cut  off  the  head  of  the  rich  noble- 
nian  who  stole  the  concubine  from  him  ?  Her  name 
was  Forben  Oxen.  Oxen !  think  of  dying  for  such  a 
name  !  Was  there  ever  such  a  diabolic  king  ?  Even 
his  wedded  wife,  Elizabeth, — sister  of  Charles  V., — 
failed  to  make  him  good.  He  was  like  the  eighth  Eng- 
lish Harry:  bluff,  bad  and  bestial.  True,  he  cham- 
pioned Protestantism;  but  he  kept  on  terms  with  Pope 
Leo  X.  The  Swedes  did  not  confide  in  him;  and 
Gustavus  Vasa,  being  imprisoned  by  him,  and  having 
escaped,  raised  the  banner  of  revolt.  After  cruelties 
and  gibbetings,  scourges  and  massacres,  outrages  on 
the  livinor  and  dead,  the  revolt  came.  Dalecarlia 
ofave  her  mountain  fastnesses  to  o^uard  Gustavus.  It 
is  the  romance  of  the  North.  About  the  sixteenth 
century,  Gustavus  was  crowned  '  Saviour  and  De- 
liverer'; and  Christian  II.  was — " 

"  Stop  !  "  says  Rene.  "  You  remind  me.  Chris- 
tian the  II. — I  have  confounded  with  Christian  I. 
We  Danes  treated  him  rightly.  When  he  returned 
to  us,  he  was  imprisoned  by  us, — by  us,  sir,"  said 
Rene,  lifting  his  form  to  a  kingly  height,  "  in  the 
gloomy  tower  of  Sonderburg,  where  he  died.  No, 
he  is  not  our  model  king." 

"  Cannot  I  get  a  copy  of  this  portrait,  Rene  ?  " 

"  I  will  try,"  he  responded. 

Here  it  is !  It  bears  its  own  biography  in  its  own 
coarse  lineaments. 


CHRISTIAN    II.,    OK    DENMARK. 


ON  THE    WAY    TO    TfFE    FAR   NORTH.  57 

But  the  culture  of  Denmark  has  not  Ijccn  satis- 
fied with  these  royal  displays.  Owinf(  to  the  pecu- 
liar lay  of  the  land  and  its  quality,  Denmark  has 
been  singularly  preservative  of  the  stone,  bronze  and 
iron  eras,  and  their  implements  of  war  and  peace. 
Its  museum  of  antiquities  has  no  equal  in  Europe. 
The  early  history  of  north-western  Europe,  down  to 
the  seventeenth  century,  is  here  bound  in  durable 
material,  which  illuminates  the  customs  and  institu- 
tions of  that  staunch  race,  whose  kings  of  old,  as 
now,  gave  their  blood  to  other  lands,  for  the  perpet- 
uation of  royal  lines. 

After  these  substantial  repasts,  it  was  a  relief  to 
look  at  nature  in  the  animated  specimens  of  the 
zoological  gardens  and  its  rare  floral  development  in 
the  botanical  department.  Nor  did  we  omit  the 
Tivoli  where  the  out-door  life  of  this  gay  capital 
finds  amusement,  with  target  and  song,  boating  and 
"  Russian  mountain  rides,"  flea  exhibitions  and  fat 
women, — not  omitting  music  and  wine  to  cheer  the 
heart ! 

A  final  view  of  the  red-tiled  city — from  the  top  of 
the  hotel,  under  the  care  of  the  Danish  o-uide  selected 
for  our  northern  journey,  whose  wife  comes  from  the 
country  to  bid  him  a  long  adieu — and  we  take  the  boat 
for  Malmo  across  the  Sound,  where  the  cars  await 
us.  Even  before  the  boat  lands  at  the  depot,  we 
have  made  acquaintances,  who  prove  agreeable,  use- 
ful and  instructive  in  our  journey.  One  of  our  com- 
panions is  a  Holland  financial  officer,  seeking  relaxa- 
tion; and  the  other  the  Portuguese  minister,  on  his 
way  to  pay  his  visit  at  Stockholm.  The  latter  has 
diamonds  and  rubies  in  profusion  on  his  fingers  and 
breast,  and  w^ith  his  white  hair  and  blue  pantaloons 
makes    himself   interestino-,    confidincr   and 


58  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

ble.  We  find  out  that  he  has  killed  his  man  in  a 
duel  and  is  an  old  member  of  the  Portuguese  Cor- 
tez.  He  opens  our  eyes  in  advance, — by  his  proc- 
lamation of  the  amenities  of  Swedish  society,  and 
the  advantages  of  the  climate.  He  goes  to  bed,  he 
informs  us,  very  late,  but  without  a  light;  and  we 
begin,  as  we  wait  in  vain  for  the  departure  of  the 
orb  of  day,  to  believe  that  we  are  making  some 
progress  toward  its  unsetting  phenomenon. 

The  meals  on  the  way  seem  droll.  Every  one 
helps  himself,  from  a  large  loaded  table;  and  you  can 
take  any  or  all,  as  you  wish,  of  the  dishes,  paying  so 
much  anyway.  The  fields  are  green  and  fallow; 
windmills  appear  as  in  Holland,  and  peat  as  in  Den- 
mark, and  stone  fences  as  in  New  England.  The 
women  wear  the  silken  or  cotton  fichu  tied  upon 
their  heads.  Palisades  appear,  not  unlike  those  of 
the  Hudson,  and  lakes  in  scores,  indicating  a  juicy 
land.  Forests  fringe  the  horizon,  women  work  the 
hillsides,  and  lumber  in  piles  and  booms  indicates  the 
main  commerce.  The  houses  are  painted  red,  as  in 
Pennsylvania.  This  is  Gothland, — a  name,  with  a 
superb  as  well  as  a  sinister  history.  Approaching 
Lake  Wenner,  and  going  beyond  it,  white-washed, 
stucco  houses  appear, — an  index  of  superior  com- 
fort; while  at  the  railroad  station  sweet  girl-tourists 
with  knapsacks  and  umbrellas  are  eager  for  the 
tramp  to  the  mountains.  The  valley  of  the  Grom- 
men  is  reached,  and  the  rapids  of  the  river  make 
their  sweet  thunder.  Immense  rafts  of  logs  fill  the 
quiescent  water,  or  bound  over  its  dams.  Yellow 
painted  houses  succeed  the  red,  as  we  approach 
the  Norwegian  border.  The  night  has  passed 
with  scarcely  a  diminution  of  light ;  for  the  bright 
moon    comes    up,    almost    before    the    sunlight    has 


O^r    THE    WAY    TO    THE    FAR    NORTH.  59 

died  away.  At  the  hour  of  ordinary  daybreak, 
we  reach  Christian ia  and  prepare  for  breakfast.  It 
is  served  in  a  marquee  tent,  supported  by  bamboo 
pillars,  within  the  court  of  the  hotel,  equipped  as 
fantastically  with  flowers  and  plants,  as  an  Orien- 
tal picture  upon  cloth  of  gold. 

Thus  have  we  broken  the  long  rides  from  the 
French  to  the  Norwegian  capital ;  and  found  ade- 
quate compensation  in  the  novel  sights  by  the 
way. 

Under  Rene's  guidance,  we  visit  the  palace  and  the 
Storthing  (Congress)  of  Norway,  where  again  our 
penchant  for  legislative  procedure  is  gratified.  The 
Lower  House  was  in  session.  Indeed  the  Uppei 
House  is  selected  from  and  out  of  the  Lower ;  this 
being  the  excellent  conservative  ballast  in  the  Nor- 
wegian Ship  of  State.  The  members  do  not  speak 
from  a  tribune,  but  from  their  seats.  The  usual  plan 
is  adopted  for  the  accommodation  of  officers  and  mem- 
bers ;  diplomatic  and  stenographic  conveniences  are 
apparent.  As  we  enter,  most  of  the  members  are  on 
their  feet, — listening  quietly  and  with  respect  to  the 
member  who  "  holds  the  word."  Nearly  all  are  fair- 
haired  and  plain-looking  men.  We  are  pleased  to 
hear  Metzhold,  who  is  as  near  a  Republican  as  may 
be ;  and  as  he  debates  the  subvention  of  Norway  for 
the  marriage  of  the  Crown  prince,  he  takes  an 
ironical  tone,  which  absorbs  attention  and  evokes 
smiles.  But  there  are  no  boisterous  or  clamorous 
nterruptions,  no  repartees  or  howls,  no  rapping  or 
ringing  to  order.  There  is  no  ostentatious  display 
either  in  the  rhetoric  or  in  the  architecture  of  the 
chamber.  Gilded  tracery  follows  beam  and  pillar; 
red  velvet  chairs  indicate  the  places  for  the  minis- 
ters,  and  two   ranges    of  seats    for   spectators    ex- 


fio  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

tend  around  the  narrow  gallery.  The  steps  and 
corridors  of  the  "  Storthing  "  House  are  not  miracles 
of  neatness.  One  should  say  that  Spitzbergen  was 
here  represented,  if  one  dare  pun  in  Norway.  In 
this  salivary  respect,  it  was  a  reminder  of  the  capitol 
of  our  land. 

"  No    brooms    here,    Rene  ? "    asks    my   wife,    ol 
the  guide. 

"  Mafoi  ! — que  non  !  " — is  his  shrugging  response. 

A  second  visit  to  the  Storthing  is  made.  We 
stumble  upon  two  Deputies,  who  politely  conduct 
us  to  the  Custodian  of  the  building,  who  shows  us 
the  Landthing,  or  Upper  House,  which  we  did  not 
see  at  the  first  visit.  It  is  not  unlike  the  Udlers- 
thing,  or  Lower  House,  except  that  it  is  smaller. 
We  are  introduced  to  the  member  from  Tromsoe, 
Bishop  Smitt,  who  tendered  us  all  the  courtesies.  He 
is  one  of  the  elect  from  the  Lower  to  the  Upper 
House ;  and  is  president  of  the  latter.  These 
northern  gentlemen  are  very  polite ;  but  at  the 
end  of  a  conference  or  conversation,  their  adieux 
are  marked  with  a  prim  and  smileless  bow.  We 
saw  the  end  of  the  session,  and  whereas  with  us, 
there  is  much  kindly  good-bye  and  good  wishes ; — 
here,  there  is  official  etiquette  in  all  its  uniform 
formality.  The  closing  is  celebrated  with  a  band 
and  a  military  muster,  by  which  the  president  of 
the  ministers  is  escorted  to  his  residence  after  dis- 
missing the  members  to  their  homes. 

The  appearance  of  the  Capitol  however  is  by  no 
means  ignoble.  Its  rounded  front  is  on  a  rise, — 
and  stands  between  two  wings  of  solid  gray  granite 
masonry.  It  is  characteristic  of  the  simplicity  of  the 
people.  Standing  at  one  end  of  a  wide  avenue,  it 
looks  toward  another  elevation,  almost  a  mile  off — 


ON    THE    IVAY    TO    THE    FAR    NORTH.  6i 

whereon  the  palace  is  situated.  Midway  is  a  beauti- 
ful plaza  or  alameda,  with  one  conspicuous  newly  gilt 
statue  to  the  lyric  poet  of  the  people, — WerL;eland. 
Bernadotte  (Charles  XIV,)  sits  superbly  upon  a  charger 
in  front  of  the  palace.  This  building  is  very  neat, 
quite  in  contrast  with  the  filthy  condition  of  the 
Storthing.  The  grand  reception  hall  is  elegant  with 
crystal  chandeliers.  Its  columns  are  gilded.  Its 
library  in  dark  drab,  with  cases  and  tables,  is  fur- 
nished in  blue  velvet  and  gold, — a  beautiful  con- 
trast. We  have  access  to  the  apartments,  as  the 
family  are  absent.  One  salon  is  decorated  with  pic- 
tures of  the  royal  family,  and  from  the  roof,  the  view 
of  Christiania,  and  the  fjord  is  superb.  The  king  is 
obliged  to  come  to  this  part  of  his  realm  every  Sep- 
tember, and  the  Crown  Prince  Oscar  usually  comes 
with  the  king.  The  latter,  when  here,  resides  at  Os- 
car Hall,  a  little  white  palace,  with  a  battlemented 
tower.  It  is  a  dainty  nest  in  the  wooded  hills  over- 
looking the  numerous  green  isles,  set  in  the  shining 
waters  of  the  bay.  The  environs  of  this  capital  show 
Italian  villas  and  luxuriant  gardens,  with  drives  on 
good  roads  in  the  sylvan  suburbs.  Yonder  forest 
promontory  jutting  into  the  fjord  is  the  park  of  the 
fairy  palace  of  Oscar  Hall.  This  cynosure  of  all  eyes 
is  worthy  of  an  entrance  and  a  description,  which  we 
reserve  until  our  return  from  the  Arctics. 

We  are  beginning  to  experience  the  effect  of 
these  northern  skies;  for  the  lingering  twilight,  en- 
ables us  to  read  and  write,  at  the  hour  of  eleven  at 
night.  We  are  beginning  to  be  puzzled  about  the 
end  of  the  day.  Shall  we  be  nearer  the  solution, 
when  we  pass  the  circle  ? 

There  is  much  more  to  be  written  generally 
about  the   capital   of  Norway.     That  it  has  80.000 


62 


FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 


population  and  a  noble  harbor,  that  it  is  the  head 
of  a  fjord  sixty  miles  long,  full  of  emerald  isles  set 
in  bright  waters,  and  surrounded  by  lofty  pine-clad 
hills,  every  volume  of  Norway  travel  informs  us. 
Other  individual  experiences  there  we  may  recount 
hereafter.  Our  way  now  is  northward  to  the  setless 
sun! 


OSCAR    HALL. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

NORWAY—THE  ANCIENT  CAPITAL  AND   MAJESTIC   SCENERY  - 

THE  SUN  IN  ITS  UNSINKING  COURSE  AROUND  THE  HORI- 
ZON—IN THE  OLD  CAPITAL  OF  LAPLAND. 

"  St  Oluf  he  rideth  over  the  plain. 

Full  seven  miles  broad  and  seveji  miles  wide, 
But  never,  ah  7tever  can  meet  with  the  matt 
A  tilt  with  him  dare  ride." — Longfellow. 


W 


HY  should  one  visit  Norway?  Aside  from 
the  matter  of  recreation  and  health,  what  is 
there  above  this  Arctic  Circle  to  lead  us  hither  ? 
What  is  it  that  points  the  prow  of  our  ship,  with 
the  desire  of  our  hearts,  still  northward  ?  These 
queries  might  be  answered  in  a  library  in  New 
York — a  priori;  but  I  hope  to  make  a  solution  on 
the  accomplished  facts.  Yet  to  appreciate  our  ex- 
perience, may  I  not  refer  to  some  of  the  thoughts 
which  have  persuaded  us  to  the  trip  ?  What  they 
are,  depends  greatly  on  the  tastes  and  tendencies 
of  the  traveller  himself  To  one  interested  in  lan- 
guages, trade,  modes  of  conveyance  and  living,  to- 
pography, geography,  climate,  geology,  ethnolog)-, 
and  the  fauna  and  flora  of  different  countries,  there 
is  much  to  attract.  Other  lands  than  Norway  may 
be  more  alluring  in  these  regards. 

As  to  its  history,  there  are  also  other  countries 
which  have  more  annals  and  richer  romance.  The 
South  of  Europe  may  be  more  opulent  as  a  "  land 


64  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

of  old  and  rare  renown,"  for  its  battlefields  and  its 
epochs  of  advancement.  Other  countries,  even  our 
own,  may  have  more  mysteries  running  back  into 
the  prehistoric  and  nebulous  rearward  of  time,  with 
its  flint,  iron,  and  eolden  ao^es.  The  monuments  of 
Assyria,  Egypt,  Greece,  and  Rome,  not  to  speak  of 
China  and  Japan,  may  have  their  sacred  glyphs  and 
runic  stones,  as  proofs  of  crude  or  wonderful  devel- 
opment. But  for  the  i\merican — descended  mostly 
from  the  islands  which  make  Great  Britain — there  is 
a  splendid  charm  in  this  Northland.  Is  it  not  the 
land  of  our  remote  ancestry  ?  Its  history  has  been 
secluded,  as  well  by  its  veil  of  mystery  as  by  the 
inaccessibility  of  its  literature. 

Whether  these  Northmen  were  a  shoot  from  a 
Finnish  stock,  or  whether  they  are  a  part  of  that 
restless  German  race  which  formerly  dwelt  around 
the  Black  Sea  and  the  Sea  of  Azof,  and  which  now 
dominates  Europe. — one  observation  maybe  compre- 
hensible. It  is  that  these  blue-eyed,  light-haired 
people  are  in  the  largest  sense,  one.  They  are  of 
one  race.  Their  characteristics  are  as  well  marked 
as  those  of  the  Latin  or  Hebrew  race.  Ang^lo- Saxon, 
Goth,  Vandal,  Dutch,  English,  call  them  what  you 
please,  they  are  but  divisions  of  one  family,  whose 
impression  as  the  arbiters  of  mankind,  in  the  old  and 
new  hemispheres,  has  had  and  yet  has  tremendous 
emphasis. 

The  present  dynasty  of  Great  Britain,  by  its  re- 
lation to  the  conqueror — William  the  Northman — 
may  find  its  aboriginal  home  in  these  Northlands. 
It  is  stated  that  the  descendants  of  Rolf  Ganger,  the 
conqueror  of  Normandy,  remain  unto  this  day  on 
farms  in  Norway  and  Iceland.  The  title  deeds  of 
their  lands  in  the   old   Norsk   lanof-uaQ^e,  still   exist. 


NORWAY.  65 

When  an  Englishman  would  trace  his  linc:aL;(;  back 
to  Norman  blood,  he  must  not  stop  short  of  the  ter- 
rible sea-kings  who  ran  out  of  the  fjords  and  seas  of 
the  north,  and  in  fear  of  whom,  the  old  Litanies  used 
to  say:  "From  the  fury  of  the  Northmen;  'good 
Lord,  deliver  us  ' !  " 

Besides,  is  not  every  Scotchman  interested  in 
Norway  ?  When  Norway  was  under  Denmark  and 
Gustavus  Adolphus  was  making  wars  generally,  did 
not  the  Scotch  Colonel  Sinclair  raise  a  force  to  help 
Gustavus;  and  since  he  could  not  reach  Sweden,  ex- 
cept through  Norway,  did  he  not,  with  his  nine  hun- 
dred men,  endeavor  to  cross  Norway  ?  The  Roms- 
dal  pass  and  fjord  mark  the  spot  where  his  men 
were  slaughtered  by  the  brave  and  patriotic  moun- 
taineers, who  hurled  rocks  down  upon  the  invaders. 
The  Scotch  have  ever  since  been  so  attached  to 
Norway  that  these  nine  hundred  remain  unto  this 
day  upon  or  under  the  soil;  and  other  hundreds  come 
to  see  something  besides  Sinclair's  monument. 

Is  not  Irelancl  interested  also  ?  Norway's  King, 
Olaf  I.,  married  a  Milesian  maid.  The  blood  of  Erin 
quickened  the  sluggish  royalty  of  the  Norse.  Under 
her  fair  guidance  was  not  Norway  led  to  the  Chris- 
tian altar  and  made  to  forget  her  Odins  and  Thors  ? 
Out  of  Ireland  came  much  early  grace,  and  from  St. 
Patrick  great  culture  as  well  as  goodness. 

Call  these  adventurers,  sea  robbers,  or  Vikings, 
they  live  in  the  deeds  of  their  Harolds  and  Olafs; 
and  their  laneuaQfe — but  little  chano^ed  in  sound  or 
sense — is  the  most  expressive  of  all  our  own  house- 
hold words,  even  in  the  remotest  homes  of  the  Uni- 
ted States. 

They  were  the  filibusters  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
They  are  represented  in  India  and  Australia,  in  Can- 


66  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

ada  and  California,  in  Texas  and  New  Zealand.  Is 
it  not  worth  while  to  go  back  to  their  ancient  home, 
and,  if  possible,  study  the  secret  of  their  power?  It 
lies  in  the  dash  and  skill,  the  experience  and  genius, 
evoked  by  this  hardy  spirit  of  the  north,  out  of  the 
fjords  and  mountains. 

Like  most  of  the  founders  of  empire,  there  is  a 
dimness  about  their  history,  to  which  the  supernat- 
ural adds  its  weird  attraction.  St.  Olaf  is  both  the 
Romulus  and  Remus  of  Norway.  I  had  occasion 
once,  on  the  Foreign  Affairs  Committee,  to  inves- 
tigate his  saintship,  to  pass  upon  a  decoration  of  that 
name,  tendered  by  Norway  to  some  of  our  beneficent 
officers;  and  thus  I  became  interested  in  this  land, 
where  his  name  is  familiar  in  family,  history,  and 
architecture.  His  history  is  as  interesting  as  a  chap- 
ter in  the  Sagas,  and,  perhaps,  as  apocryphal.  His 
cathedral  is  the  chief  ornament  of  this  land,  where 
there  is  so  little  of  ornament  by  art  and  so  much  by 
nature. 

The  remarkable  career  of  such  Northmen  as  Olaf, 
as  it  disturbed  coastal  Europe,  was  not  unlike  that 
of  the  Barbary  Corsairs  of  a  later  period.  It  struck 
terror  and  excited  wonder.  It  reached  the  heart  of 
the  inland  cities  and  towns  of  Europe,  and  even  the 
cloisters  of  churchmen.  The  wild  fancies  of  the  poets 
of  the  North — dreamed  during  their  long  night  of 
winter — added  their  imagery  to  enhance  the  terror 
and  wonder.  The  story  of  the  first  Olaf,  whose 
mother  and  foster-father  were,  by  a  bad  Viking, 
taken  prisoners  with  him  in  his  callow  days,  and 
who,  after  many  adventures,  came  to  the  throne  of 
Harold,  his  grandfather,  reads  like  an  Oriental  ex- 
travaganza. How  the  boy  was  sold  for  the  price  of 
a  goat,  and  how  his  second  sale  was  for  a  cloak;  and 


A'o/:ii:n'.  67 

how,  at  last,  he  was  found  to  be  the  true  Prince;  and 
finally,  while  still  a  little  boy,  and  having"  recognized 
the  bad  Viking  in  a  market  place,  he  "  buried  his  lit- 
tle axe  in  the  bad  Viking's  brain  " — these,  and  espe- 
cially the  "  little  axe,"  have  a  value  as  illustrating 
historical  veracities  by  minute  comparison.  How  he 
grew  up  and  began  to  be  a  grand  Viking  himself, 
until  he  fell  in  love  with  the  Irish  maiden,  the  beau- 
teous Gyda,  and  how  at  last  the  scales  fell  from  his 
pagan  eyes,  and  he  saw  the  Christian  cross  as  the 
sign  in  the  sky  for  more  conquests — all  these  are  as- 
sociated not  only  with  these  fjords  and  rocks,  but 
connect  them  with  other  lands  by  the  heroic  narrative. 
Then  there  was  a  second  Olaf  in  ioi5.  He  was 
a  politic  person.  He  managed  the  local  Democra- 
cies and  conciliated  their  leaders,  the  jarls,  or  earls. 
He,  too,  ran  the  round  of  conquest,  to  end  at  last  in 
discomfiture ;  but  he  was  sainted,  and  the  splendid 
cathedral  now  repairing  in  Trondhjem  contains  his 
sacred  well,  his  precious  bones,  and  his  elegant 
tomb.  The  well  is  fabled  to  have  miraculous  virtue, 
and  the  tomb — -it  is  now  reappearing — was  a  marvel 
of  art.  The  natives  go  in  crowds  to  see  this  cathe- 
dral and  its  treasures.  We  went  the  rounds  with 
thirty  others.  Most  of  them  were  Norwegian  peas- 
ants. They  looked  at  the  relics  with  wonder,  love, 
awe,  and  with  a  simplicity  utterly  incongruous 
with   that   of  sea  robbers  and   VikinQ^s. 

I  do  not  wonder  that  as  early  as  a.  d.  1080,  the 
"  Tractatus  Adami "  was  written.  It  is  like  the 
fables  told  of  the  mysteries  of  Africa.  It  makes 
everything  wonderful,  because  unknown.  In  this 
Tractate,  de  sihi  DaiiicE  d  rcliqiiarium  Scp'cnti'iolai 
Rcgioncm, — it  is  said  that  "  Norway  and  Sweden 
are   two   widely  extended'  kingdoms   of  the   North 


68  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

hitherto  ahiiost  unknown.  There  are  vast  deserts 
and  mountains  of  snow,  where  are  herds  of  mon- 
strous men,  whicli  shut  out  all  approach :  also  Ama- 
zons, baboons,  and  Cyclops,  having  but  one  eye  in 
the  middle  of  their  foreheads ;  hemantopeds,  skip- 
ping or  leaping  with  one  foot  only;  man  eaters  with- 
out speech." 

After  reading  this  description  I  did  not  wonder 
that  the  booksellers  in  Norway  sell  illustrated  and 
translated  editions  of  "  Gulliver's  Travels."  Nor 
did  I  wonder  that  in  the  palace  at  Christiania,  the 
capital  of  Norway,  one  of  the  native  painters  by 
a  bold  stroke  of  imagination  imaged  in  graceful 
portraiture,  the  forms  of  Scandinavian  Amazons 
fighting  the  sons  of  men  on  horseback,  cavorting 
out  of  the  air  of  the  North,  scantily  clad,  and  driv- 
ing their  male  enemies  headlong  to  the  frosty  earth. 
Nor  is  it  wonderful  that  where  iron  became  so  nec- 
essary to  the  pursuit  of  fishing  and  the  building 
of  boats,  that  the  Cyclops  should  have  a  northern 
home  in  the  palace  of  the  great  god  of  the  hammer 
and  anvil,  Thor.  Nor  is  it  less  wonderful  that  the 
Smith  family  should  here  be  a  patronymic  of  uni- 
versal honor. 

How  beautiful  are  objects  seen  in  the  twilight 
of  history,  and  in  the  mists  of  fiction  how  are  they 
magnified! 

Another  inducement  to  see  Norway  and  its  kin- 
dred people  at  their  home  is  the  fact,  that  here  is 
the  hive  whence  come  the  bees  to  suck  the  sweets 
out  of  our  own  soil.  Norway  has  re-discovered 
America.  What  habits  of  patience,  adventure, 
thrift,  and  industry  do  they  not  bring  to  our  rich, 
alluvial  soils?  From  Minnesota  to  Texas  they  are 
laying  away  in  their  snug  cells  the  honey  that  gives 


NOA'IFAV.  69 

Happiness.  Every  year  the  crowd  of  immigration 
at  Castle  Garden  has  increased,  until  last  year  a 
half  million  have  come,  one-fifth  of  them  out  of  this 
hive  of  industry.  Still,  from  my  observation,  we 
have  just  begun  to  draw  upon  this  fruitful  source  of 
population,  for  the  business  of  raising  children  here 
seems  to  be  as  active  as  that  of  the  steamship  lines 
which  convey  them. 

Even  if  there  were  no  strange,  eventful  history 
to  draw  us  to  this  Northland,  there  are  physical 
peculiarities  upon  this  coast  without  a  parallel.  We 
in  America  are  associated  with  this  land  by  physical 
facts.  One  is  the  great  Gulf  Stream  which  sweeps 
hither  from  the  American  shore,  tempering  its  cli- 
mate and  making  such  journeys  as  ours  possible  and 
comfortable.  As  a  consequence,  we  have  this  near- 
ness of  these  northern  lands  and  waters  to  the 
distant  traveller,  who  cannot  wage  a  war  with  the 
excesses  of  the  Arctic  upon  our  own  and  other 
shores. 

But  the  interest  in  Norway  culminates  in  the 
supreme  fact,  that  the  sun,  with  its  equable  alter- 
nation of  light  and  shadow — day  and  night — in  other 
lands,  here  shines  for  months,  quite  inequitably.  It 
never  seeks  at  times  to  go  below  the  horizon  for 
rest!  Here  it  appears  in  a  double  and  doubtful 
character.  It  is  the  orb  of  nitrht  as  well  as  of 
day.  It  is  this  grand  luminous  fact  which  allures 
most  travellers  hither.  It  is  this  fact  which  we  de- 
sire to  record,  with  such  interest  as  the  incidents 
of  unaccustomed  travel  may  enhance. 

What  mountains,  cataracts,  snow  fields,  and  tor- 
rents we  saw  from  our  Trondhjem  car  of  observation 
would  make  a  gallery  of  pictures.  They  would  re- 
main as  c/ie/s  d'euvre,  but  for  the  superior  splendors 


70  FROM   POLK     TO    PYRAMID. 

of  the  fjords  and  their  lofty  walls  and  winding  maze 
of  sublime  scenery,  which  we  have  already  observed, 
and  are  still   preparing  to  observe. 

Our  night-ride  is  brief,  for  the  night  is  short. 
Our  companions  are  so  accommodating,  that  they 
change  sides  in  the  car,  so  that  we  may  revel  in  the 
beauty  of  Lake  Myosen,  along  whose  margin  of 
Genevan  beauty  our  train  runs.  The  stops  are 
frequent,  the  meals  constant  and  the  scenery  magnifi- 
cent. Snow  patches  begin  to  glisten  on  the  fjelds 
and  mountains.  Waterfalls  dash  under  the  track 
and  are  seen  deep  down  in  the  gulches,  fretting  and 
seething  amidst  rocks.  We  have  risen,  as  we  go 
north,  2,200  feet;  and  the  descent  begins  as  we  ap- 
proach Trondhjem.  We  pass  down  chzzy  gorges 
and  around  towering  peaks,  covered  with  pine 
and  birch.  As  we  run  into  the  valley  which  leads 
into  Trondhjem,  the  rain  falls  and  the  weather  is 
thick.  This  city  has  streets  as  wide  as  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue.  They  have  double  sidewalks,  and 
four  gutters,  and  look  unique!  The  morning  brings 
us  the  sun;  and  from  our  windovv^s  we  perceive  the 
distant  heights  upon  which  the  snow  rests.  We  rest 
also  till  noon;  and  then  begin  our  observation  of  the 
most  remarkable  object  in  the  city. 

There  is  no  name  so  thoroughly  domesticated  in 
the  Northland,  as  that  of  Olaf.  The  reason  for  it 
lies  in  the  depth  of  Norse  tradition  and  history. 
Longfellow  has  translated  a  mystic  ballad, — a  verse 
of  which  is  prefixed  to  this  chapter.  It  refers  to  the 
first  preaching  of  Christianity  in  the  North.  It  is 
associated  with  chivalry, — born  of  the  Orient  like 
the  Christian  religion.  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity, 
three  maidens,  decorate  an  unknown  knight.  Out 
of  his  encounter  with  Sir  Olaf,  the  two  fall,  and  out 


XOA'IVAY.  71 

of  their  blood,  rises  the  myth.  I'^roni  Sh'  Olaf, 
there  is  but  a  step  to  St.  Olaf;  and  from  his  chiv- 
alric  virtues  came  the  splendid  cathedral,  which  the 
rude  winds  and  air  of  the  North  have  not  spared. 
It  is  this  primal  architectural  glory  of  the  North, 
that  we  first  visit  in  this  ancient  capital. 

Its  Norman  decorations,  with  the  double  rows  of 
"  saw  teeth,"  cut  in  slate  colored  marble,  the  olden 
well  of  the  Saint,  in  one  corner  of  the  nave,  with 
its  supposed  virtues  of  healing  and  sanctity;  the  cor- 
ridor full  of  corbcilles  of  quaint  imagery,  satires  of 
the  mediaeval  masons  upon  the  society  of  that  time; 
the  round  columns  with  square  bases  and  the  "early 
English "  style,  so  favored  by  the  aesthetic  in  art 
and  nature,  are  here,  but  in  fragmentary  ruin  and 
confusion;  for  the  church  is  undergoing  complete  re- 
pair. Many  years  will  be  required  to  restore  its 
pristine  grandeur.  Meanwhile  an  improvised  rail- 
road brings  the  unhewn  marble  to  the  very  chisel 
of  the  artists  who  are  at  work  within  the  boarded 
apartments.  Already  the  altar  is  partially  reared, 
and  enough  is  seen  to  show  the  octao-on  tower  over 
it,  as  exquisite  in  proportion  and  in  variety  with  unity, 
as  the  stained  windows  are  rich  in  hue  and  design. 

Without  waiting  to  describe  more  fully  this  Ca- 
thedral, without  writing  down  the  many  courtesies 
from  this  most  polite  people,  not  forgetting  Mr. 
Fischer,  the  agent  of  the  Schoning  steamers,  to 
whom  we  owe  so  much  as  a  preparation  for  the 
long  and  unknown  journey,  and  leaving  behind  the 
pleasant  graveyard  at  Trondhjem,  where  the  dead 
are  remembered  by  flowers  and  visits,  never  omitted 
during  the  season  when  flowers  bloom,  and  minis- 
tration is  possible,— we  order  a  fire  in  our  room  at 
the  hotel,  and  prepare  for  the  needs  of  our  journey. 


72  FROM   POLE     TO    PYRAMID. 

For  three  of  us,  for  five  hundred  kro?ic7i,  or  about  two 
hundred  dollars  at  most,  the  journey  can  be  made 
to  North  Cape  and  return.  Our  tickets  are  taken 
and  wardrobe  selected. 

We  look  at  our  watches.  It  is  1 1  p.  m.,  and 
the  daylight  is  lingering  on  the  hills.  It  is  mid- 
summer's night  fete  over  these  wild,  rocky  lands, 
but  its  fires  are  hardly  visible  in  the  sunlight  at 
1 1  p.  M.  We  go  to  our  window  constantly  to  see 
if  this  fire  fete  is  discernible;  but  it  is  raining,  and 
the  prospect  is  gloomy.  We  go  to  bed  under  eider- 
down covelets  that  raise  us  to  Fallstaffian  propor- 
tions in  our  recumbency.  Friday,  July  24,  dawns 
about  I  or  2  A.  m.,  and  after  breakfast  we  look  upon 
our  future  home  in  the  steamer  John  Schoning. 
It  is  anchored  in  the  fjord  at  Trondhjem  which  is 
set  amid  verdurous  mountains  tipped  with  snow. 

What  is  a  fjord,  and  why  is  it  spelled  so  ?  A 
fjord  is  the  same  as  our  English  word  ford.  They  is 
not  sounded,  or  it  may  have  a  little  tone  of  ^,  and  signi- 
fies a  body  of  water,  or  an  inland  arm  of  the  sea,  and 
has  all  the  qualities  of  our  bay  or  the  Scottish  frith. 

In  Norway,  on  the  coast,  for  two  thousand  miles, 
the  fjord  furnishes  safe  water-ways  of  communica- 
tion. It  makes  the  gloomy  sterility  of  the  soil  and 
the  long  winter  nights  tolerable,  relieves  the  long 
days  of  leaden  gloom,  and  renders  the  tempestuous 
sea  harmless. 

Our  boat  is  filling  with  bags  of  flour  for  the  oc- 
cupants of  the  fishing  villages  upon  our  projected 
route.  At  last,  Friday  midnight,  the  time  of  sailing 
comes.  The  sun  sets  in  gold  between  two  mountains, 
but  his  radiancy  remains  to  light  us  on  board  half 
an  hour  before  midnight.  The  puzzle  between  night 
and  day  is  deepening. 


NORWAY.  73 

By  some  misadventure  we  are  rowed  to  the  I  lam- 
burg'  steamer.  This  is  righted,  and  we  are  aboard 
and  abed — to  awake  Saturday  morning,  amid  the 
strangest  scene  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  behold. 
Here  and  there  we  see  a  yellow  lighthouse  and  cu- 
rious landmarks  which  I  thought  at  first  were  piled 
stones  for  navigation  in  the  long  winter  nights.  They 
were  piles  of  dried  fish.  One  peculiarity  we  observe. 
It  is  a  white  target  circle  painted  on  the  gray  gran- 
ite rocks,  to  attract  the  attention  of  navigators  to 
the  iron  ring,  where,  in  the  wintry  storm  and  night, 
the  vessel  may  hold  fast.  On  our  left,  going  up,  are 
lono"  lines  of  rounded  rock,  shuttiuLT  out  the  restless 
North  Sea,  and  on  the  right,  under  a  blue,  lustrous 
haze,  are  long  ridges  of  rocky  cliff,  with  small,  sweet 
intervals  of  green,  where  a  few  red  and  yellow 
houses  are  located,  and  all  in  strange  contrast  with 
the  snows  above  on  the  mountains,  which  never 
leave  us. 

I  look  around  the  deck  of  our  vessel.  It  has 
two  masts,  with  tarred  ropes  and  glistening  chains. 
The  deck  is  full  of  holes,  and  machinery  for  lifting 
and  lowering  the  traffic.  It  is  piled  up  with  lumber 
of  all  kinds,  giving  small  room  to  promenade.  The 
fact  is,  these  vessels  are  only  about  four  hundred 
tons,  and  are  mainly  for  the  trafiic  along  the  route. 

Who  and  what  have  we  aboard  ?  A  piano  is 
being  thrummed  below  in  the  large  cabin  by  the 
captain;  and  a  young  Ole  Bull  is  playing  a  rattling 
tune,  with  a  squeaky  fiddle,  to  the  second-class  pas- 
sengers, below  the  forward  deck.  A  dance  is  going 
on  merrily.  The  fjord,  and  the  sea  itself,  which  is 
noticeable  at  times  between  the  isles,  are  like  glass. 
A  gentle  breeze  from  the  north  brings  no  eager  and 
nipping  harshness  on  its  way  from  the  pole.     Many 


74  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

women,  with  handkerchiefs  on  their  heads,  are  stand- 
ing about  the  deck  hstlessly.  They  are  of  the  fami- 
hes  of  the  merrymakers,  who  turn  out  to  be  herring 
fishers  going  north  for  a  "  catch."  They  leave  the 
south  in  droves  when  a  telegram  assures  them  of  a 
"  run."  They  furnish  their  own  meals,  and  are  as 
civil  a  body  as  you  will  find  in  any  land.  Six 
staunch  boats  are  lashed  to  our  sides,  as  a  preparation 
for  emereencies  where  licfhthouses  are  scarce  and 
the  life-savinof  service  unknown.  Our  well-dressed 
passengers  are  sauntering  around  and  becoming  ac- 
quainted. This  is  aided  by  the  clever  tact  and  jolly 
manner  of  Captain  Bentson,  who  unites  to  a  hand- 
some, manly  person,  good  manners  and  excellent 
English.  There  are  two  English  women  of  rare 
culture,  one  of  whom  is  expert  in  drawing,  together 
with  two  clergymen  of  the  English  Church,  one  of 
whom  is  also  a  proficient  in  the  same  art.  We  have 
meals  thrice  a  day,  the  pitce  de  resistance  being 
salmon. 

Among  these  passengers  are  many  Norwegians. 
There  is  one  in  whom  I  am  specially  interested.  He 
is  a  youth  of  ten,  and  sits  next  to  me  at  the  table. 
His  name  is  Sigert,  and  he  is  bound  to  see  his  father, 
far  up  in  the  Arctic  Ocean.  He  travels  alone — with 
a  dog.  All  treat  him  well.  He  speaks  very  melli- 
fluous Norse,  and  we  like  to  hear  him  talk.  Our 
clergyman  teaches  him  the  features  of  his  face  in 
English,  eyes,  cars,  mouth,  and  skin,  as  he  insists  on 
pronouncing  cJiin.  I  ask  him  what  he  is  going  to  be 
when  he  gets  through  school.  He  says  that  after  learn- 
ing Latin  and  Greek,  he  will  be.  a  priest.  I  tell  him 
to  come  to  America.  He  shudders !  I  ask,  through 
Rene,  what  he  thinks  of  America,  and  why  he  will 
not   come.     He    says:    "Brigands!     Oh,    the    brig- 


THORGHATTEN,     NORWAY. 


NO/^IVAY.  75 

aiuls  !  "  The  young  Viking !  As  tliis  was  a  poser, 
and  apt,  if  inculcated  among  Norse  youth,  to  dis- 
courage emigration,  I  cross-question  him,  and  find 
that  the  brigand  of  his  fancy  is  the  noble  redman, 
the  Sioux  and  Ute.  I  explain  that  we  white  people 
are  rescuinof  the  "  noble  red "  from  his  bri^jandish 
propensities,  and  he  promises,  if  I  am  a  good  sample 
of  those  who  have  exterminated  the  red  brigands,  to 
come  and  see  us  when  he  is  through  with  his  studies. 

After  dinner  on  Saturday,  we  prepare  for  the  first 
sensation  before  reaching  the  Arctic  Circle.  We  are 
informed,  however,  that  we  v/ill  not  see  Thorghatten 
till  after  night.  After  night  ?  There  is  no  night 
here.  Thoro-hatten  is  the  hat  of  Old  Thor  himself 
set  high  upon  a  proud,  godlike  head,  worthy  of  Olym- 
pus. It  is  a  mountain  isle,  and  from  a  distance  re- 
sembles the  Capitol  at  Washington  in  shape.  It  is 
full  of  caves  and  chasms,  and  has  an  immense  hole 
through  it.  Our  party  is  set. on  shore  to  examine 
it.  It  is  no  easy  path,  this  ascent,  and  I  am  com- 
pelled, "  as  a  bird  with  fond  endearment,"  to  coax 
my  wife  upward  to  the  skies  and  lead  the  way. 

While  we  are  ascending  the  heights,  the  vessel 
steams  off  to  a  station  for  a  couple  of  hours.  It  is 
difficult  to  land,  but  we  succeed,  and  over  spongy 
turf  and  the  rubble  of  the  thunder  storms  and  wind- 
ing up  through  a  damp  valley,  we  reach  a  point 
where  we  can  snowball  each  other  in  this  beginning 
of  July.  Then  we  happen  to  separate,  and  some  of 
us  get  lost.  Our  party  has  been  misdirected.  Fi- 
nally some  get  up  to  the  tunnel,  and  some  hover 
around  it,  not  knowing  how  to  reach  it,  nor  how  near 
they  are  to  it.  It  is  seventy-five  feet  high  and  one 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  long.  It  is  nearly  at  the  top 
of  the  mountain,  say  one  thousand  feet  high.     It  is 


76  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

long  waiting  for  some  of  the  party  to  return,  and 
Rene,  our  guide,  having  sung  Cipriano  in  the  opera 
Rigoletto,  and  being  professor  of  French  and  Ger- 
man, and  a  cosniopoHtan  besides  being  a  Dane,  gives 
us  in  various  languages,  national  songs  and  some  of 
his  operatic  tunes. 

Rene  is  called  a  Talk.  He  is  a  talker,  or  inter- 
preter; but  he  is  more.  He  is  a  rare  artist.  A 
kind  of  Danish  ranz  cie  vac/ics,  is  one  of  his  favor- 
ites. Then  we  call  for  another  and  another  of  his 
favorite  airs,  until  he  essays  his  national  song.  It 
tells  proudly  on  the  folds  of  its  battle  flag,  to  what 
nation  it  belongs.  He  prefaces  the  song  with  the 
legend  of  its  origin.  It  seems  that  one  of  the  popes 
granted  to  Waldemar.  king  of  Denmark,  all  the  lands 
which  he  could  wrest  from  the  heathen.  He  begins 
the  business  of  wrestinof.  There  is  a  battle.  The 
Danes  are  beinor  worsted.  Their  flacr  is  lost;  when 
lo !  from  the  heavens  drops  a  standard.  There  is 
upon  it,  a  white  cross  on  a  red  field.  The  battle  is 
then  won;  and  the  Danncbrog  becomes  a  poetic  en- 
sign, which  Rene  thunders  out  to  the  heavens,  whence 
it  came.  The  heavens  and  the  mountains  give  back 
a  choral  volume  of  welcome. 

We  pass  the  time  in  making  acquaintance  with 
our  fellows  —  who  consist  of  five  English,  seven 
Scotch,  and  three  Americans — -while  some  old 
travellers,  in  l^roken  languages,  recount  the  stories 
associated  with  the  locality.  It  is  a  legendary  spot. 
Every  country  with  a  waterfall  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  high  must  have  a  legend  with  the  fall.  It 
is  likely  to  be  a  story  about  a  veiled  virgin,  and  the 
amative  acrobat  wlio  leaps  over  cascades  after  her. 
It  is  related  in  various  ways  and  tongues,  how,  before 
the  Sagas  were  written,  and  long  before  Harold  the 


NOKIVAY.  77 

fair-liairccl  suppressed  tlic  Jarls,  who  ran  lionic  g'ov- 
ernment  on  a  Democratic  basis,  far  deep  in  the  past, 
when  priants  and  trolls  peopled  the  inhospitable  North, 
the  giant  Hestmand  (Horseman)  fell  in  love  with  a 
yellow-haired  giantess  named  Moya  of  Lako,  nine 
miles  away.  She  rejected  his  suit.  He  uttered 
great  oaths,  and  plucked  an  arrow  from  his  quiver 
and  shot  at  his  love.  The  sequel  is  sad.  The  arrow 
went  through  Thorghatten  to  strike  off  her  head,  and 
the  tunnel  remains  to  prove  it.  All  the  parties  to 
this  affair  are  somehow  turned  into  stone,  including 
the  arrow,  and  they  remain  as  indubitable  evidence 
of  the  absolute  verity  of  the  narrative.  It  may  be 
remarked  that  while  the  sun  here  is  allowed  to  go 
to  bed  late,  if  he  goes  at  all,  and  to  keep  dissipated 
hours,  yet  it  is  not  permitted  to  giants  and  gnomes, 
for  they  must  go  out  at  night  only,  otherwise  the 
sun's  rays  will  strike  them  into  stone. 

Beyond  this  enchanted  spot,  the  Seven  Sisters 
sit  in  their  bridal  robes  of  snow,  awaiting  the 
fateful  genius  which  will  give  them  away.  They 
are  alike,  and  are  alike  in  their  magnificent  height 
(three  thousand  feet  each)  and  their  cragged  gran- 
deur. 

Before  we  start  for  their  vicinacje  an  alarm  runs 
around  our  company.  Two  boat-loads  from  the 
shore  have  arrived  on  board,  and  one  person  is 
missing.  It  is  a  lady,  and  the  wife  of  one  of  our 
Scotch  passengers.  She  had  gone  around  and  be- 
yond the  point,  and  w^as  likely  awaiting  a  boat  to  be 
sent  her.  A  boat  with  the  anxious  husband  was 
sent.  It  returned  with  a  pallid  husband  and  no 
wife.  It  was  getting  serious.  The  captain  comes 
to  the  rescue;  he  plays  "  Home,  Sweet  Home!"  on 
his  bugle  to  allure  the  wanderer  back;  but  in  vain. 


78  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

At  last  he  orders  a  boat  and  six  sailors  to  go  ashore. 
The  sailors  spread  over  the  mountain  and  among  the 
rocks.  With  my  glass  I  espy  far  up  on  the  jagged 
cliff  a  female  form.  The  boat  whistle  sounds  a  call. 
The  rescue  is  made,  and  the  flushed  wife  and  happy 
husband  are  helped  on  board.  A  glass  of  wine  to  the 
lost  one  and  a  great  relief  to  all — and  we  are  again  off 
to  the  northward.  As  we  leave  this  spot  of  legend 
and  anxiety,  the  sun  comes  out  of  the  cloud  and  sits 
serenely,  not  as  yet  upon  the  imaginary  Arctic  Cir- 
cle, but  very  near  it,  on  the  front  of  the  cliff.  It  is 
half-past  1 1  r.  m.  We  are  watching  for  some  of  his 
northern  eccentricities,  and  are  gratified  to  find  that 
the  axioms  and  facts  of  astronomy  are  gradually 
reaching  demonstration  to  our  senses  and  sentiment. 

Another  day  with  some  rain,  but  glimpses  of 
Swiss-like  mountains,  until  at  Swartzeisden,  a  fa- 
mous black  mountain,  appears  a  glacier  that  Agassiz 
would  have  loved  to  encounter.  Through  our  glass 
it  looks  green  and  blue,  where  it  is  broken  off.  It 
is  forty-nine  miles  long,  a  vast  field  extending  along 
the  mountain's  crest. 

Such  a  crystalline  monster  provokes  observation 
and  discussion.  Our  learned  friends  on  board  re- 
count glacial  facts.  Boulders  are  magnified  by  fancy, 
and  science  is  lifted  into  the  dim  inane  of  antique 
epochs.     Child-like  I  listen,  only  asking  our  scientist: 

"  How  the  arctic  frost-piles  upbear  these  pon- 
derous rocks;  and  what  the  theories  now  most  preva- 
lent are  ?  " 

My  questionings  arc  answered  in  sight  of  the  slow 
moving  masses.  Then  I  presume  to  inquire,  whether 
in  the  eye  of  the  Infinite,  these  evidences  of  elemental 
forces  and  transitions,  are  not  the  merest  minute 
movements     of    the    almost    infinitesimal    atomies. 


NORWAY.  79 

Whereat  I  am  put  down  as  a  sceptic.  Then  I 
read  my  little  lesson  of  the  butterfly  and  the  glacier, 
to  show  in  Hans  Andersen's  land,  how  the  Great  De- 
signer in  little  things,  vindicates  the  universal  law. 
A  prismatic  butterfly  becomes  enamored  of  an  iris. 
He  flutters  about  the  earth  to  seek  his  love.  At  last 
he  finds  her  in  the  hyperborean  north.  She  is  encased 
in  crystal,  and  as  he  strives  to  embrace  her,  he  falls 
chilled  on  the  ice.  Who  digs  his  tiny  grave  ?  By 
the  universal  law  of  heat,  he  scoops,  after  death,  his 
own  tiny  grave.  It  is  in  the  shape  of  an  oval  water 
cup.  Its  larger  axis  lies  due  north  and  south.  It  is 
deepest  at  the  north;  but  it  is  so  accurate  that  the 
wayfaring  man,  though  compassless,  may  safely  find 
his  bearings.  The  dead  butterfly  in  his  wandering 
for  his  love,  indicates  the  meridian.  Science  and  af- 
fection are  reconciled.  This  little  cup  deepens  to  a 
basin,  and  the  basin  shallows  until  it  is  obliterated, 
and  a  symmetrical  cone  with  an  oval  base,  rises  ex- 
actly in  its  place, — a  temporary  monument  of  ice, 
marking  the  grave  of  the  dead  butterfly. 

The  death  and  burial  of  a  gold-dusted  butterfly 
may  point  unerringly  to  the  pole,  and  leave  a  monu- 
ment observable  by  the  eye  of  man  and  God. 

My  little  story  was  all  too  poetic,  though  true. 
However,  science  gave  me  its  hand  in  the  person  of 
its  devotee.  Dr.  Sanderson;  and  pointed  to  a  greater 
wonder  far  below  the  glacier  mountain. 

The  telegraph  poles  pass  in  slow  procession 
toward  the  Arctic  coast  and  the  Russian  domin- 
ion. A  station  is  reached  where  there  is  a  fair 
being  held,  and  we  go  ashore  to  observe  the  lit- 
tle groups;  but  where  are  the  people  along  these 
shores  —  where?  Where  are  the  Northmen  who 
make  Norway  the  third  maritime  power  ?  We 
fail  to  see   them,   and    inquire   for  them.     We    are 


So  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

told  that  the  men,  or  most  of  them,  are  off  to  sea, 
fishiiiQf — ever  fishinof. 

This  town  of  the  fair  is  called  Stensoen,  and  is  at 
the  head  of  a  fjord.  It  is  impossible  to  depict  the 
scenery  of  the  various  places  at  which  we  land,  but 
it  is  one  of  the  delights  of  this  peculiar  travel  that 
we  can  break  its  irksomeness  every  few  hours,  by  a 
brief  stay  upon  the  shore.  A  half  hour  we  consumed 
at  Stensoen,  in  discharo-incf  cargro.  We  cross  a  lake- 
like  fjord  which  is  as  calm  as  one  of  our  midland 
New  York  lakes.  But  how  wintry  is  the  aspect, 
with  the  bare  mountains,  whose  gray  is  somewhat 
relieved  by  lichens  and  snow !  What  a  solitude  is 
here !  It  is  rendered  more  lonesome  by  the  few 
square-rigged  yellow  sails  coming  from  or  going  to 
the  sea.  With  their  upturned  prows,  they  are  not 
jnpicturesque.  They  fill  the  ideal  of  the  bent  plank 
which  Ruskin  commends  in  them  as  the  nearest  per- 
fect of  any  work  of  man  for  symmetry,  beauty,  and 
utility.  Far  to  the  west,  the  sun  seems  to  burn 
hotly  upon  the  dazzling  water,  while  the  ever-vary- 
ing panorama  of  white  heights  gives  back  the  dazzling 
sheen.  I  am  startled  from  my  contemplation  of  this 
wonderful  land,  and  still  more  wonderful  water,  by  a 
Scotchman's  song  in  the  cabin.  It  seems  oddly  un- 
fitted to  the  enchanted  spot: 

"Then  we  will  walk  at  early  dawn, 
Ere  yet  the  sun  begins  to  shine. 
At  eve  aft  to  the  lawn, 

And  mark  that  splendid  orb's  decline." 

We  are  almost  to  the  point  where  there   is   no 
dawn  and  no  decline  to  speak  of  or  sing  about. 

It  is  Sabbath,  and  our  services  are  over.  We 
reach  a  village  called  Mosjoen,  a  place  for  timber 
and  snow.     It  is  completely  shut  in  by  mountains. 


JVOA'jrAV.  Si 

It  reminds  us  of  the  Crow's  Nest  up  the  Hudson, 
but  narrower,  and  with  wilder  mountain  scenery. 
Upon  the  rocky  shore  the  Norwegian  Hag-  flies  in 
the  brisk  breeze, — a  cross  of  red  and  white ;  while 
far  off  is  a  white,  dazzling  snow  field,  upon  which 
the  summer  as  yet  has  made  no  impression.  We 
land  and  ascend  the  hill.  We  find  a  tent  and  plat- 
form, where  the  fishermen  dance  away  the  winter 
nights  under  the  light  of  the  Aurora.  The  waves 
of  the  fjord  are  dressed  in  bonnets  of  white,  as 
though  for  church.  The  snows  reach  to  the  water's 
edge.  An  immense  lumber  boom  is  here,  full  of 
long,  slim  logs,  very  unlike  the  Norwegian  pine  of 
Miltonic  verse.  A  mountain,  in  the  similitude  of 
Vesuvius,  with  a  cloudy  streamer  at  its  top,  bears 
us  in  fancy  to  the  Neapolitan  mountain.  We  are  in 
north  latitude  66°. 

At  length  we  are  at  the  Arctic  Circle.  It  has 
a  bold  landmark,  no  other  than  our  legendary  friend 
the  Horseman.  It  is  an  island.  From  the  sea  it 
is  said  to  seem  like  a  man  on  horseback  in  cap  and 
flowing  cloak.  I  could  not  make  out  the  horse 
exactly,  but  the  man  was  tolerably  well  outlined. 
He  reminded  me  of  the  statue  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  in  Hyde  Park,  which  all  agree  is  not  a 
good  piece  of  art.  But  the  circle  is  better  defined 
in  our  minds.  It  cuts  the  horseman's  cap  in  two, 
and  can  be  seen — the  horseman,  I  mean — from  a 
great  distance.  Hence  we  were  ready  on  deck, 
chronometers  in  hand,  for  the  sun,  which  at  this 
point  does  not  "  bait  his  steed  the  ocean  waves 
among."  as  Spenser  sings,  but  rises  before  he  con- 
descends to  be  seated.  Are  we  to  be  disappointed? 
Yes.  The  hateful  clouds  prevent.  The  night  before 
we  had  watched  his  majesty  go  down,  and  rise  again 


82 


FROM    POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 


about  a  quarter  after  twelve.  He  surrendered  his 
throne  with  orreat  glory,  but  it  was  not  yet  the  unset- 
ting  sun.  We  retire  to  our  berths  disgruntled,  not 
without  hope,  however,  for  to-morrow  at  midnight. 
Another  day.  We  are  up  betimes,  for  by  cover- 
ing the  port-hole  with  a  curtain  we  improvise  some 
little  night  and  have  a  good  rest  after  our  disap- 
pointment. The  scenery  is  so  grand  that,  in  spite 
of  the  "  Ingen  Adgaiig-,"  "  No  admittance,"  painted 
over    the    bridge,    we    ascend    it    for   the    splendid 


NOR  IV AY.  83 

view  of  these  sea-coast  Alps.  By  our  side  is  a 
Norse  pilot,  yellow-haired  and  polite,  but  watch- 
ing closely  the  windings  of  the  fjord.  Picture  on 
picture  surprise  by  their  forms, — Churches,  Bier- 
stadts  and  Turners ;  mountains  jagged,  ragged,  and 
cragged.  They  remind  me  of  a  view  I  once  had 
from  Pic  du  Languard  in  the  Orisons,  at  the  Ber- 
nini pass,  where  I  counted  over  one  hundred  anci 
fifty  snow-clad  mountains  in  Tyrol  and  Savoy,  as 
well  as  in  Switzerland.  Many  of  these  Norwegian 
mountain  ranges  are  doubled  in  grandeur  by  the 
reflection  of  their  rocks  and  snow  in  the  waters 
of  the  ever-changing  fjord.  What  huge  masses 
these  North  mountains  seem ;  skeleton  ribs  of  the 
earth,  in  its  desolation  and  sublimity. 

The  marvel  is,  and  is  ever  repeated  here,  that 
a  whole  land,  running  so  far  toward  and  into  the 
frozen  zone,  bending  like  a  monstrous  bow,  should 
be  so  crowded  with  these  giants  of  earth  and  yet 
so  easily  reached  and  seen  by  the  sons  of  earth. 
Compared  with  them  the  Catskills  and  Alleghanies 
seem  as  a  wart.  I  have  seen  the  sierras  of  Spain 
and  California,  and  the  Atlas  and  Alpine  ranges 
with  their  gorges  and  glories,  and  yet  it  would  seem 
as  if  all  these  visions  were  as  nothing  compared  with 
these  thousand  miles  of  majesty,  with  their  waters 
and  isles,  glaciers  and  peaks,  all  canopied  with  blue 
skies  and  fleecy  clouds,  and  all  reproduced  in  lakes 
more  maorical  than  Mao-oriore  or  Como. 

o  00 

All  description  fails.  Besides,  all  emotions,  sub- 
lime and  otherwise,  begin  to  succumb  before  the 
rolling  of  the  steamer  and  its  peculiar  motion.  We 
are  in  the  open  sea,  and  have  glimpses  of  the  lofty 
ranges  and  inaccessible  fastnesses  of  the  Lofoden 
Isles,  which  reach  out  their  rocky  arms  toward  Ice- 


84  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

land.  I  ask  the  mate  to  point  out  the  Maelstrom, 
that  bete  iioir  of  our  school  days.  He  says  that 
we  will  not  go  near  it,  and  laughs  slyly  at  my 
idea  of  its  horrors.  These  are  more  easily  dis- 
sipated than  those  which  follow  us  into  the  Arctic 
Sea,  which  we  are  now  entering  with  questions  not 
to  be  recounted. 

After  many  calls  among  the  Lofoden  Islands 
we  recross  a  narrower  fjord,  and  still  steering  north 
and  still  moving  east  also,  we  reach  at  the  seven- 
tieth  parallel  the  old  capital  of  Lapland,  Tromsoe. 

The  fjords  are  calm  and  the  air  pleasant  and  toni- 
cal.  Serenely  we  move  up  toward  the  unsetting  sun 
— per  paccm  ad  luceni!  Practically  we  are  in  the  per- 
petual light  of  the  sun, — no  moon,  no  star,  no  eve,  no 
night, — all  day! 


CHAPTER    VII. 

WITHIN  THE  ARCTIC  CIRCLE— IN  QUEST  OF  THE  MIDNIGHT 
SUN— A  THEATRE  IN  NORWEGIAN  LAPLAND— A  WEDDING 
IN  TROMSOE  — THE  EIDER  DUCK— NORTHERNMOST  CITY 
OF  EUROPE— OFF  FOR  THE  OPEN  ARCTIC  SEA. 

"  Here  rocks  on  rocks,  up-piled  upon  the  strand, 
Seem  the  vast  structure  of  some  'giant's  hand.'  " 

IF  night  unto  night  has  not  proclaimed  knowledge, 
yet  day  unto  day  has  given  us  speech  about 
these  enlightened  lands  and  waters.  The  perpetual 
daylight  keeps  one  wakeful.  Besides,  there  is  not 
SO  much  sleep  required  where  there  is  no  darkness 
to  coax  us  to  bed.  The  feelincj  of  beincr  and  havino- 
no  night  to  be  in,  makes  one  a  sort  of  incongruous 
person.  Mrs.  Partington  describes  it  exactly:  "  Call 
me  an  octagon !  a  centurion !  a  relic  of  antipathy  and 
send  me  to  the  next  imposition."  Have  we  not 
turned  night  into  day;  and  all  day  long? 

This  may  seem  jocose;  but  it  is  no  joke  to  travel 
to  and  from  the  North  Cape  in  the  mazes  of  these 
fjords  and  amidst  this  Colorado  and  Switzerland, 
dropped  by  the  Creator  into  these  turbulent  seas ! 
Nowhere  for  days  and  days,  or  rather  for  the  long, 
long  day,  are  snow  mountains  out  of  sight,  for  there 
is  no  darkness  to  enshroud  them. 

A  story  is  told  of  the  early  conflicts  between  the 
heathen   Bonders,   or  peasants,   and   St.   Olaf.   who 


86  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

sought  to  convert  them.  The  peasants  were  rep- 
resented by  an  image  of  Thor,  which  could  be  seen* 
but  the  saint  mocked  at  its  impotency,  much  as  the 
prophet  mocked  at  Baal;  and  the  Pagans  derided  in 
return.  "  Let  your  God,"  said  the  Bonders,  "  make 
clear  weather;  and  we  will  accept  him,  or  fight." 
Meanwhile  the  Bonders  brought  their  image,  ar- 
rayed in  silver  and  gold.  Olaf  mocl^ed  at  his  sight- 
less eyes;  and  as  he  did  so,  the  sun  came  out  of  his 
orient  chambers.  "Behold!  our  God  is  Light!" 
exclaimed  the  saint.  Smce  then  the  Northmen  have 
this  religious  light,  the  year  round,  and  the  God  of 
Day  half  the  year,  without  much  nocturnal  shrouding. 
They  accepted  the  omen  the  more  cheerfully,  as  the 
ancient  faith  of  Thot*  v/as  celebrated  in  connection 
with  rites  to  the  sun.  Both  came  out  of  the  orient 
and  it  is  thought,  out  of  Scythia. 

Every  mountain  seems  a  lofty  judge,  all  ermined 
and  spotless,  in  the  endless  light.  Barring  some 
diversions  into  the  open  sea,  we  pass  over  a  tor- 
tuous chain  of  inland  waters,  every  link  a  lake, 
under  illuminations  and  reflections,  which  do  not 
cease  in  their  variety  of  form  and  beauty.  The  pare 
rich  and  chaotic  enough  in  limning  and  rme,  to  be 
Turneresque. 

There  is  much  to  kei;p  one  awake  in  these  lofty 
latitudes.  If  there  were  no  other  living  thing,  the 
ever-moving  gulls,  the  plashing  whales,  and  the  div- 
ing ducks  would  do  it.  As  we  approach  Tromsoe — 
the  eider  duck  becomes  both  a  commodity  of  com- 
merce and  a  delight  for  its  domestic  virtues.  Its  down 
is  worth  here  five  dollars  a  pound,  and  it  takes  four 
pounds  as  taken  from  the  nest  to  furnish  one  marketa- 
ble pound.  The  duck  is  to  be  seen  all  about  the  islands 
of  these  fjords.     It  does  not  fly  at  the  approach  of 


IF/TIinV    THE    ARCTIC    CIRCLE.  87 

our  vessel.  The  male  is  white  and  black,  the  female 
brown.  You  may  find  them  amon<^  the  rocks  on 
their  nests,  and  handle  them  without  their  beini,^ 
timid.  Some  of  their  haunts  on  the  isles  have 
crosses  erected  upon  them,  indicating-  that  the  owner 
of  the  island  insists  on  exclusive  proprietorship.  By 
law  all  are  prohibited  from  shooting  them.  At 
Sanne-Sjoen,  where  we  halted,  I  looked  at  them 
throuqh  the  glass.  They  seemed  gay  in  their 
playful  plunges,  but  not  wild.  Their  feathers  are 
plucked  by  themselves  to  make  nests  with.  Man 
removes  the  soft  down.  They  then  replace  again 
the  feathers  from  their  own  breasts,  and  again  man 
removes  them.  This  cannot  be  done  more  than 
twice,  but  with  a  good  many  ducks  the  product  is 
considerable. 

What  interest  can  an  American  take  in  these 
eider  ducks  ?  Much  ornithologically,  and  a  little  his- 
torically. Is  it  not  chronicled  that,  in  a.  d.  1007,  some 
Norsemen  embarked  for  America,  or  that  part  of  it, 
then  known  as  Vinland,  and  now  familiarly  known 
as  Cape  Cod,  Martha's  Vineyard,  and  Nantucket; 
and  that  two  Scotch  slaves  of  the  Vikings,  were 
sent  as  runners  to  spy  out  the  land,  and  returned 
with  marvellous  stories  of  its  corn  and  wine  ?  The 
historian  remarks  that  the  apparel  of  these  Scots, — 
a  man  and  a  women, — must  have  been  convenient 
for  running;  as  it  consisted  of  only  one  garment, 
and  was  a  happy  combination  of  a  hat  and  a  breech- 
cloth,  covering  the  head,  buttoning  between  the 
legs,  but  open  everywhere  else  and  without  sleeves. 
It  was  on  this  expedition,  that  the  eider  ducks  of 
Buzzards  Bay  were  discovered!  They  were  so  plen- 
tiful, that  it  was  difficult  to  walk,  without  treading 
on  their  eesfs.     The  Scotch  costume  has  been  im- 


88  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

proved  since  that  early  day,  and  the  birds  have 
down  to  more  austere  haunts.  Or  perhaps  the 
story  is  as  apocryphal  as  that  of  the  grape  and 
wine  of  Massachusetts,  as  to  which  the  Viking  Thor- 
well,  one  of  the  explorers,  thus  mocked  in  numbers: 

"  Not  from  out  this  land  divine 
Have  I  quaffed  one  drop  of  wine." 

Ducks  are  not  the  only  birds  in  these  high 
Norwegian  latitudes.  Birds  of  prey,  like  the  eagle, 
falcon,  goshawk,  kite,  buzzard,  owl,  and  kingfisher, 
sometimes  condescend  to  appear  upon  our  vision. 
Warblers  may  be  found  on  field  and  hill;  but  seldom 
have  we  heard  their  sonofs  or  cauo^ht  a  sisfn  of  their 
presence.  The  birds  of  the  North,  like  the  people, 
generally  fish  for  a  living.  On  some  of  the  islands 
there  are  congregations  of  great  numbers  and  va- 
riety. Some  of  them  seem  to  be  standing  as  if  in 
prayer ;  some  kneeling.  A  few  screams  and  squawks 
now  and  then  from  a  gull,  and  the  solitude  comes 
again. 

I  have  said  that  we  have  seen  whales.  This 
remark  is  too  fishy.  Only  two  appeared  to  exhila- 
rate our  society ;  but  one  of  them  made  up  in  spor- 
tiveness  what  he  lacked  in  size.  He  would  leap  up 
out  of  the  fjord,  and  fall  awkwardly,  with  a  big 
splash.  But  he  was  an  object  of  tender  solicitude, 
as  we  passed  a  fisherman  in  a  boat,  cetaciously  In- 
tent, with  a  Sfun,  makinof  for  his — blubber. 

Along  these  rocks  are  also  seen  strange  piles 
in  circular  form,  which  resolve  themselves  into  the 
dried  stock  fish.  They  have  been  cured  by  the  sun, 
and  are  as  hard  as  the  stone  they  repose  upon.  As 
opportunity  occurs  they  are  sent  to  the  outer  world, 
and  their  compensation  is  in  the  salt  of  Spain  and 


WITHIN    THE    ARCTIC    CIRCLE.  8y 

the  comforts  of  the  fruitful  tropics,  l)orne  back  hither 
by  the  vessels  which  bear  the  fish  south. 

I  am  called  from  observing  animated  nature  by 
the  announcement  that  Tromsoe  is  in  sight.  All 
the  way,  since  early  morning,  there  has  been  a  suc- 
cession of  very  wintry  landscapes.  The  mountains 
are  not  so  high,  though  still  rugged;  but  everywhere 
there  is  snow  to  their  summits  and  to  the  water's 
edge.  Here  and  there  are  a  few  green  spots,  which 
some  one  has  preempted.  But  Tromsoe,  albeit 
within  the  Circle,  is  quite  a  town.  Its  red  tiles 
appear  imposing  from  its  bay.  We  leave  the  vessel 
and  land  amid  a  crowd  of  indigenous  lookers-on.  We 
walk  the  streets,  intending  to  have  dinner  on  shore 
at  the  Grand  Hotel.  It  is  a  two-story,  commodious 
barn,  without  carpeting.  The  fresh  pine  boards  are 
innocent  of  paint.  Within  its  enclosure  is  a  theatre, 
and  small  handbills  indicate  a  play  to-night.  It  is 
the  play  of  "The  Husband  and  Servant" — ''  Herskab 
og  Tjenerskaby  In  fact,  there  are  two  plays.  I 
mention  this  to  show  the  luxury  of  Lapland.  The 
farce  of  "  Lavi  oz  Lovinde!' — "  The  Lamb  and  the 
Lioness"  —  precedes  the  other.  But  how  shall  I 
pronounce  the  polysyllabic  phrase  which  follows  ? 
Mark  Twain  said  that  there  was  danger  in  pro- 
nouncing the  nine -jointed  name  of  his  Russian 
inamorata.  It  was  awful  on  his  teeth;  in  fact,  it 
brought  some  old  snags  out.  Two  of  the  syllables 
were  nipped  off  in  his  attempt;  but  the  name  "tasted 
good,"  as  the  lock-jaw  closed  down  on  it.  W^e 
were  informed  by  the  hand-bill  of  the  theatre  that 
the  '' Abonementsforestclling''  opened  at  half-past 
eight  of  the  "  klock."  This  was  satisfactory,  though 
sesquipedalian.  W^e  had  evidences  at  the  hotel  of 
this  theatrical  party   by  the   boxes   of  trunks,   and 


90  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  thin  and  trao-ic  Bernhardt-look  of  one  of  the 
actresses.  Our  guide  Rene  says  they  are  Danish, 
and  he  knows.  I  enter  the  theatre,  and,  unob- 
structed and  unchallenged,  gallant  our  company 
behind  the  scenes  and  into  the  green  room.  A 
piano  in  front  furnishes  the  orchestra,  and  is  a 
prologue  to  the  swelling  scenes  to  come.  A  head 
gear  and  a  sword,  some  paint  stuffs,  and  a  few  ga}- 
dresses  indicate  the  sumptuous  wardrobe.  As  our 
vessel  resumes  its  northern  journey  at  6  p.  m.,  and 
as  the  theatre  opens  at  8.30  p.  m.,  we  shall  miss 
it.  Is  it  lighted?  Yes.  Chandeliers  hang  from 
the  ceiling,  and,  although  there  is  nightly  sunlight 
now,  yet  this  is  a  provision  for  dark  winter. 

When  we  emero^e  from  the  hotel  for  a  stroll, 
school  is  out,  and  the  little  Tromsoe  folks  are  on. 
the  lookout  for  us.  They  stand  in  groups.  I  ex- 
amine the  school  book  of  one,  and  make  a  picture 
on  the  slate  of  another,  whereat  all  are  interested, 
and  a  child  of  ten  years  volunteers  to  say  that  he 
is  in  a  higher  class  than  the  younker  I  am  patron- 
izing. He  speaks  English,  too.  It  is  studied  in 
the  schools.  Wandering  about  the  streets,  we  are 
followed  by  crowds  of  little  people,  curious  to  note 
our  motions  and  our  dress.  They  ask  us  to  write 
on  their  slates.  Our  English  clergyman  writes  a 
moral  maxim  about  discipline ;  and  I  write :  "  When 
you  get  old  enough,  come  to  America,  which  your 
ancestors  found  five  hundred  years  before  Colum- 
bus." This  I  thought  would  stimulate  inquiry  and 
enterprise. 

A  wedding  is  announced  at  the  church,  whose 
bells  are  pealing.  We  invite  ourselves.  A  score 
of  us  enter  the  building.  It  is,  like  most  Lutheran 
churches,  plain ;  but  there  is  an  altar,  with  "  seven 


WITHIN    THE    ARCTIC    CIRCLE. 


91 


NORWEGIAN    BRIDE   AND   GROOM. 


candlesticks"  and  candles;  a  large  cross,  perfectly 
white,  a  pulpit  midway,  and  commodious  pews  and 
seats.  The  hour  is  two  in  the  afternoon,  not  in  the 
mornincr,  though  as  to  liofhtinof  the  church  it  is  "all 
one."  Some  dozen  or  so  of  natives,  all  females, 
with  handkerchiefs  upon  their  heads,  are  present. 
Our  party  is  seated  at  the  front.  I  remain  at  the 
door.  My  wedding  garment  is  not  up  to  the  high- 
est style,  but  as  the  procession  enters  the  front  door 
I  fall  in  behind  with  the  small  boy  of  the  family. 
The  bride  is  a  tall  girl,  with  inflammatory  hair  and 
cool  demeanor.  The  groom  is  a  thick-set,  stout 
man,  in  ordinary  clothes.  His  hair  is  erect,  and  his 
imperturbability  is  quite  equal  to  that  of  the  woman, 
whom  he  holds,  we  hope  gently,  by  the  hand.     She 


92  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

is  dressed  plainly  in  black.  A  long  white  veil  de- 
pends from  her  back  hair,  held  by  a  circlet  of  ivy, 
a  plant  in  great  request  and  reputation  here  in 
Norway.  A  golden  crown  surmounts  the  adorned 
head,  according  to  the  custom.  The  friends  of  the 
bride  and  bridegroom,  including  parents,  pass  up  to 
the  platform  with  them  and  take  seats  on  either 
side.  A  priest  comes  out  from  the  adytum  and 
stands  before  the  altar  silently,  with  his  back  to  us, 
while  the  precentor  from  a  side  platform  raises  a 
sweet  song,  with  whose  music  there  is  not  so  much 
accord  by  the  audience.  Then  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom kneel,  a  prayer  is  said,  and  the  two  are  one, 
and  all  are  happy.  The  bride  is  re-arrayed  at  the 
door,  and  the  scene  is  concluded. 

After  dinner  we  stroll  about  the  town,  while 
the  Captain  invites  my  wife  to  ride  about,  after  a 
wild  Norwegian  pony,  in  a  big  cariole.  She  re- 
ports having  several  adventures  on  foot  as  well  as 
in  the  vehicle.  Seeing  a  lady  of  sorrowful  aspect 
sitting  upon  a  bench,  she  joins  her.  The  woman 
exhibits  much  emotion  upon  knowing  my  wife  is 
from  America.  Her  pretty  home  is  tenantless,  as 
the  family,  all  but  herself,  sailed  eight  days  ago 
for  America.  She  says:  "The  snow — oh,  the  snow 
is  so  deep !  No  one  ought  to  pass  another  such 
winter."  She  adds  that  no  Lapps  will  be  down 
from  the  mountains  till  later,  and  we  must  await 
their  coming  to  see  the  reindeer  in  his  best  estate, 
which  is  wild.  Judge  Caton,  in  his  admirable  book 
on  Norway,  states  that  they  have  an  irresistible  im- 
pulse to  seek  the  coast  in  the  summer  season.  This 
the  owner  cannot  oppose,  if  he  would.  All  he  can 
do  is  to  direct  whither  they  shall  go.  The  Judge 
does  not  give  us  the  reason  why  the  animal  seeks 


WITHIN    THE    ARCTIC    CIRCLE.  93 

the  warm  climate  in  warm  weather,  leavini^  the  cool 
hig-hlands  behind.  It  is  an  anomaly  in  nature  which 
he  does  not  clarify.  He  sa)s  it  is  the  habit  also  of 
the  caribou  of  America.  I  asked  our  captain  the 
reason.  He  says  it  is  because  of  the  mosquitoes, 
which  are  simply  horrible  to  man  and  beast  in  sum- 
mer, in  the  regions  of  Lapland,  Finmark,  and  upper 
Sweden.  My  friend  the  clergyman  of  St.  Paul's 
confirms  the  statements  as  to  this  summer  terror 
of  the  Arctics.  He  says  that  in  the  north  of 
Sweden,  when  the  snow  begins  to  melt  and  the 
mosquito  eggs  begin  to  hatch,  his  friends  who 
have  journeyed  there  have  found  it  impossible  to 
cook  their  meals,  as  the  pot  would  be  full  of  the 
mosquitoes  before  it  could  boil.  They  find  it  im- 
possible to  sleep  unless  one  lies  awake  and  takes 
care  of  his  companions.  He  states  that  upon  the 
shores  of  these  northern  Sw^edish  lakes  the  mos- 
quitoes have  been  washed  ashore,  and  formed  strata 
two  feet  deep !  No  w^onder  the  reindeer  leaves  for 
the  coast.  Now  I  know  why  tourists  do  not  prefer 
to  go  to  Mount  Gallaware  in  upper  Sweden,  to  see 
the  Midnight  Sun,  even  though  it  is  seen  from  the 
heights,  and  further  south  than  Hammerfest.  There 
is  little  interest  about  the  Lapps  and  their  reindeer. 
Perhaps  my  disgust  of  the  American  Indian  in  his 
drunken  condition,  has  disenchanted  me  of  the  noble 
savage.  I  leave  to  others  the  description  of  these 
people,  and  their  herds  and  habits.  Reindeer  or 
not,  we  shall  meet  plenty  of  Lapps  before  \ve  see 
the  midnight  sun. 

After  visitinof  the  Tromsoe  Museum,  with  its 
antiquities  of  Lapp  and  Finn  life,  we  board  the  ship 
by  six,  still  hoping  for  a  good  glimpse  of  the  sun 
at  midnight.     It  has  cleared  off  and  grows  warm. 


^4  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

We  all  nap,  expecting  to  be  awake  at  midnight. 
Alas !  again  a  heavy  fog  and  clouds,  and  an  appar- 
ent sunset  at  midnight,  nevertheless;  but  his  maj- 
esty is  within  his  pavilion  of  stately  splendor,  al- 
though never  under  the  horizon.  Our  English 
clergyman  makes  an  excellent  sketch  of  the  scen- 
ery above  Tromsoe,  with  its  wild,  rocky  mountains, 
and  an  island  in  the  distance,  between  whose  jutting 
peaks  we  feel,  if  we  do  not  see,  the  round  orb's  de- 
cline and  rise  behind  long  level  lines  of  crimson  hue, 
which  change  into  a  pinky  radiance  as  he  rises  with- 
out setting.  Two  ships  appear,  like  phantoms,  to 
break  the  solitude  of  the  scenery.  Again  we  go  to 
our  berths  disappointed,  but  not  altogether  unen- 
thusiastic;  for  are  we  not  assured  by  science  and  our 
eyes  that  there  is  no  sunset  here  ? 

Besides,  there  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  light  here, 
whether  because  of  the  snow  and  glacier,  or  the  boreal 
latitudes,  I  know  not.  It  is  indescribable.  Dr.  Kane, 
in  his  polar  experience,  describes  the  effect  of  the 
reflected  light,  in  the  month  of  March,  as  more  dream- 
like and  supernatural  than  any  combination  of  earthly 
features.  He  says:  "The  moon  is  nearly  full,  and 
the  dawning  sunlight,  mingling  with  hers,  invests 
everything  with  an  atmosphere  of  ashy  gray.  It 
clothes  the  enarled  hills  that  make  the  horizon  of 
our  bay,  shadows  out  the  terraces  in  dull  definition, 
grows  darker  and  colder  as  it  sinks  into  the  fjords, 
and  broods  sad  and  dreary  upon  the  ridges  and 
measureless  plains  of  ice  that  make  up  the  rest  of 
our  field  of  view.  Rising  above  all  this,  and  shad- 
ing down  into  it  in  strange  combination,  is  the  in- 
tense  moonlight,  glittering  on  every  crag  and  spire, 
tracing  the  outline  of  the  background  with  contrasted 
brightness,  and  printing  its  fantastic  profiles  on  the 


WITHIN    THE    ARCTIC    CIRCLE.  95 

snow-ticld.  It  is  a  landscape  such  as  Milton  or  Dante 
might  imagine — inorganic,  desolate,  mysterious,  I 
have  come  down  from  deck  with  the  feelings  of  a  man 
who  has  looked  upon  a  world  unfinished  by  the  hand 
of  its  Creator."  This  is  a  true  picture  of  these  un- 
finished fraofments  of  our  inorQ;'anic  world. 

A  question  arises  which  all  observers  of  the  mid- 
night sun  discuss:  Is  the  light  before,  different  from 
that  after — midnight;  and  if  so,  wherein?  There  is 
a  richer  flush  and  a  warmer  temperature  before  mid- 
nio-ht.  That  satisfies  the  sentiment  which  associates 
poetry  with  sunset !  Besides,  there  is  a  scientific  and 
sanitary  relation  of  light  to  our  race.  The  shroud  of 
the  body  or  its  skin  should  not  be  concealed  from  the 
light  and  air,  as  if  we  were  insects  to  be  incased  in 
cocoons.  There  is  another  function  for  light  beside 
that  of  falling  upon  the  eye  for  vision.  It  is  its 
healthy  stimulus ;  and  both  through  eye  and  skin 
affects  the  sensibility  and  the  health  of  mankind,  dis- 
pelling languor  and  pallor  and  stringing  the  nerves 
to  a  finer  tension. 

Upon  this  misty  morning  of  the  last  of  June,  aris- 
ing at  eight,  I  seek  some  relief  from  the  monotony 
of  daylight  and  volcanic  mountain;  for  the  prospects 
above  Tromsoe  are  not  equal  in  attraction  to  those 
below.  The  snows  and  clouds  comminofle,  so  that 
it  seems  one  unbroken  whiteness  upon  the  lonely 
shores.  The  air  is  damp  and  muggy,  except  in  the 
south,  where  we  least  want  it  clear,  and  there  it  is 
illumined  with  a  blue  streak  of  light.  Not  a  sign  of 
human  or  other  life  now  appears;  not  even  a  duck, 
or  a  sail.  It  is  the  skeleton  of  the  world,  in  its 
shroud.  We  have,  while  asleep,  passed  over  some 
open  sea,  and  are  within  the  protection  of  the  islands 
on  the  west. 


96  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

At  ten  o'clock  next  morning  we  are  at  Ham- 
merfest,  which,  akhough  it  is  tlie  uppermost  town  in 
Europe,  is  not  the  upper  end  of  our  journey.  It  is 
not  so  large  by  half  as  Tromsoe,  for  it  has  only  about 
three  thousand  population.  It  looks  more  like  a  sea- 
port. The  harbor  is  full  of  little  boats  plying  their 
fishing  trade.  A  Siberian  steamer  is  loading.  We 
walk  to  the  rocky  stream  which  gushes  out  of 
the  frozen  lake,  covered  with  snow,  and  endeavor  to 
reach  the  Lapp  encampment,  which  the  melting  snow 
forbids.  We  enter  the  low  huts  of  the  people  on  the 
outside  of  the  town.  They  are  very  dirty  and  squalid; 
but  the  roofs  are  already  green  with  grass,  where 
there  is  better  provender  for  the  stunted  yellow  cows 
with  short  legs  and  full  udders,  than  amidst  the  rub- 
ble and  snows  of  the  common  at  the  margin  of  the 
lake,  beneath  the  rocky  mountain.  We  were  not  a 
little  puzzled  at  the  useless  cultivation  of  grass  upon 
the  roofs  of  these  houses,  inasmuch  as  no  one  seemed 
to  practise  the  economy  of  the  Scotch  peasant,  who 
carried  his  cow  on  top  of  his  roof,  morning  and  even- 
ing, to  eat  off  the  grass,  forgetting  how  easy  it  would 
have  been  to  cut  it,  and  carry  it  to  the  cow. 

The  improvidence  of  these  poor  people,  is  only 
equalled  by  their  filthy  huts  and  habits.  The  hab- 
its of  Norse  filth,  are  in  wide  contrast  with  those 
of  Dutch  neatness,  in  the  same  conditions  of  life.  I 
cannot  say  that  the  ordinary  peasant  of  Norway  is 
tidy.  Even  the  skyd.  who  drives  the  cariole,  with 
his  mischievous  blue  eye,  has  a  sort  of  ragged, 
hirsute  hair,  innocent  of  the  comb,  and  a  face  racy 
of  the  soil  and  ignorant  of  soap.  But  these  Norwe- 
ufians  are  in  the  fishinof  business,  and  in  the  loner 
winter  live  in  hot  smoky  houses.  Perhaps  it  is 
patriotic   to  be  slovenly  ?     Do  they  not   inherit   it 


WITI/LV   THE   ARCTIC    C  IK  CLE.  97 

from  one  of  their  heroes  ?  Is  it  not  written  of  Har- 
old Harfager,  when  he  soiiq'ht  the  yellow-liaired 
Sna^frid  to  wife,  and  when  she  sent  word  to  him, 
that  she  would  not  marry  him  until  he  conquered  all 
Norway,  that  he  thereupon  took  an  oath,  never  to 
cut  his  hair  until  he  conquered  both  land  and  wife  ? 
Besides,  why  do  the  Norse  people  call  their  heavy 
servant  girl,  ''  simikke pige'' ? 

Almost  as  much  care  is  taken  to  dry  the  hay  in 
Norway  as  the  fish,  for  the  weather  has  its  vicissi- 
tudes, and  the  winter  is  long  and  wearisome  to  man 
and  beast.  For  some  time  we  were  at  a  loss  to  un- 
derstand the  meaning  of  the  great  bundles  of  poles, 
like  exaggerated  fasces, — hoef  giers — piled  so  as  to 
look  like  the  lodges  of  the  red  man  of  our  land.  They 
are  found  everywhere  in  the  fields  of  southern  Nor- 
way. They  stand  in  the  meadows  or  lean  against 
barn  and  fence,  and  attract  attention  at  every  view. 
What  can  they  be  ?  At  last  the  solution  came. 
They  are  used  for  curing  hay.  Hay  is  hung  up  to 
dry.  Stakes  are  set  about  six  feet  high  and  pins  in- 
serted, on  which  these  slender  poles  are  laid.  The 
poles  are  so  arranged  that  when  the  grass  is  placed 
upon  them  they  shed  rain.  The  sun  and  wind  soon 
do  the  hay-making,  aided  by  stalwart  females. 
These  improvised  hedges  are  features  of  Norwegian 
landscape.  They  are  thoroughly  rural,  and  quite  in 
contrast  with  the  bleak  aspect  of  the  fjords. 

Passing  down  the  principal  avenue  of  Hammer- 
fest,  called  Neddre-Gonnevvolsgaade,  we  see  a  neat 
little  church.  Its  bell  rings.  We  enter,  and  are 
met  by  a  Catholic  priest,  a  Hollander,  who  is  here 
at  work  educating  and  preaching.  His  name  is  the 
Rev.  Father  Crull.  He  calls  to  his  aid  the  Rev. 
Father  Hagerman,  a  German,  who  is  here  as  di- 


98  FROM  POLE    rC    PYRAMID. 

rector  of  the  Catholic  missions  in  Lapland  and  Fin- 
mark.  Wine  and  music,  and  a  pleasant  chat,  end- 
ing with  a  benediction,  and  we  are  placed  under  the 
direction  of  a  young  Norse  teacher,  who  tenders  her 
service  to  help  us  about  Hammerfest.  The  church 
only  numbers  thirty-four,  and  its  age  is  but  a  few  years. 
Under  the  convoyance  of  our  beautiful  guide, 
Mademoiselle  Gabovier,  we  visited  the  docks  about 
the  harbor,  which  is  full  of  activity.  We  note  how 
many  watchmakers'  and  clock  shops  there  are  in 
Hammerfest — a  sign  of  natural  confusion  as  to  night 
and  day.  Some  twenty  open  boats  of  the  antique 
mould,  such  as  were  recently  dug  up  near  Chris- 
tian ia,  are  preparing  to  unload  their  fish  at  the  red 
warehouses  which  overhang  the  water.  They  are 
Lapp  vessels.  The  fish  are  of  divers  kinds;  some 
red,  and  very  large.  The  Lapps  are  not  a  nice  set 
to  look  upon.  They  do  not  compare  with  the  rough- 
est of  the  Norweoian  fishermen  for  cleanliness   or 

O 

behavior.  Their  wamitscs  (as  we  used  to  call 
them  out  west),  or  loose  coat  of  white,  thick,  and 
dirty  woollen,  are  held  by  a  belt — sometimes  marked 
with  the  name  of  the  owner — from  which  depends 
the  Norwegian  knife,  which  seems  to  be  worn 
openly  by  everybody.  This  is  a  most  innocent 
weapon,  and  only  used  for  honest  purposes.  Drunk 
as  are  many  of  these  Lapps,  and  rolling  about  the 
docks  in  stupid  glee,  yet  no  violence  results,  no  in- 
sults are  given. 

On  the  outside  of  the  town,  the  Qfreat  meridian 
line  of  2  5°  20'  drawn  from  the  Danube  to  the  arctic, 
terminates.  It  is  marked  by  a  monument,  which 
celebrates  that  the  (scientific)  sovereigns  of  Norway, 
Sweden  and  Russia  ordained  this  long  meridian,  in 
latitude  70°  40  11'.    This  is  quite  exact  for  sovereigns. 


WITIim   THE   ARCTIC    CIRCLE. 


99 


Here,  far  off  at  this  end  of  the  earth — as  an  evi- 
dence of  civiHzation,  I  suppose— is  the  inevitable 
Custom  House,  with  the  red  flag  of  Norway  over 
it.  It  is  called  the  Toldkaincr,  where  they  take  toll 
for  the  liberty  to  trade  in  fish,  oil,  and  timber.  The 
shoes  of  the  people  are  peculiar,  made  of  leather, 
but  heavy,  and,  like  their  carioles  and  vessels,  turn 
up  at  the  end ! 

The  very  tones  of  these  Norwegians  indicate  a 
gentle  habit.  At  every  turn  in  their  talk  you  hear 
the  negative  nei — pronounced  like  nayce  !  It  is  used 
for  admiration,  wonder,  and  interrogation,  and  al- 
ways with  a  graceful  curve  at  the  end,  like  their 
vessels.  If  the  cja  (aye)  and  the  nei  (no)  vote  were 
taken  in  Norway,  the  neis  would  have  it  almost-?^;;^. 
con.  It  is  said  that  the  adjective  habitual  to  a  per- 
son is  as  much  of  a  detective  of  character  as  the 
inscriptions  on  a  thermometer  are  indications  of  heat. 
Certainly,  this  is  true  of  the  Norwegian  negative 
monosyllable.  It  is  the  sign  and  proof  of  com- 
plaisance. It  must  be  perfectly  charming  to  a  Norse 
lover  to  hear  such  a  sweet  denial  of  his  suit.  Its 
characteristic  is  that  It  turns  up  so  gracefully  at  the 
end  of  the  conversation.  I  should  not  be  surprised 
to  see  even  the  mosquitoes  turn  up,  as  we  have  seen 
the  whales,  in  obedience  to  this  universal  rule  of 
politeness. 

Before  4  p.  inl  we  are  all  aboard  ready  to  receive 
a  return  visit  from  the  priests,  who  call  to  escort 
mademoiselle  back  to  the  shore.  She  has  been  din- 
ing with  us.  After  all  is  done  by  us  to  be  recipro- 
cal, we  set  sail  for  the  cape  and  the  open  Arctic.  Only 
a  few  stations,  and  we  will  be  there,  and  then  and 
there  we  have  another  chance  at  his  Midnight 
Majesty. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  SUN  AS  A  NIGHT  ORB— ARCTIC  SCENES  AT  THE  CATE. 

"  Where  was  wide  wandering  for  the  greediest  eye. 
To  peer  abottt  upon  variety; 
Far  round  the  horizoiis  crystal  air  to  skim 
And  trace  the  dwindling  edges  of  its  brim." 

IT  is  July  I,  1 88 1,  and  ten  at  night,  and  we  are  in 
sight  of  the  cape !  It  grows  cold  and  colder. 
All  wraps  are  ordered  up  and  out,  so  that  from  the 
deck  we  may  survey  the  splendid  headland.  Before 
taking  a  local  view  of  the  situation,  let  us  see  where 
we  are — on  our  planet.  Evidently  we  are  in  no  or- 
dinary out-of-the-way  place.  The  air,  sea,  sky,  light, 
and,  most  of  all,  this  mystic  volcanic  mountain  island 
— wild,  bleak,  black,  bare,  and  jagged,  a  thousand 
feet  sheer  and  clear  of  the  sea,  and  its  surface  deeply 
invested  in  white — prove  our  strange  situation.  The 
very  air  blows  with  a  strange  chill,  and  the  light, 
which  comes  to  us  over  the  pole  obliquely,  has  in  it 
a  sepulchral  semi-shadow  in  the  heart  of  its  mild  lus- 
trousness.  It  is  a  sort  of  inner  light,  burning  upon 
the  vestibule  of  outer  darkness.  The  spot  is  one  to 
philosophize  upon.  It  hushes  the  outer  senses.  It 
makes  one  feel  the  limitations  upon  our  will  and 
works;  yet  God  has  enchanted  this  rocky  promon- 
tory by  His  sunlight,  though  He  grants  it  but  a  brief 
summer. 

The   North   Cape  is  the  extremity  of  an  island 


THE    SUM  AS   A    NIGHT   ORB.  loi 

called  Mageroe.  It  means  what  it  "iGoks,' barren.  '  A 
few  Lapps  and  reindeer,  a  fishing-  'sca'tiOn  and  some 
ermine,  and  birds  by  the  millign,  are  -s-kid  to  'give 
some  life  to  this  desolate  promontory.  We  see  them 
not.  A  column  on  the  top  tells  that  royalty  ascended 
here  in  1873.  That  does  not  appear  as  we  round  the 
headland;  but  the  huge  rock  looms  up  grandly  be- 
fore us.  You  do  not  care  to  gaze  from  its  eminence 
to  the  south  even  if  a  prospect  opened.  It  would 
only  reveal  the  same  scenery  which  we  have  seen  in 
less  sublime  aspects,  since  we  left  the  circle.  To  the 
east  other  rocky  heights,  in  clear  outline,  jut  into 
the  sea. 

Before  we  pass  around  the  headlands,  the  gen- 
tleness with  which  we  had  dallied  in  the  fjords,  gave 
way.  We  had  signs  that  the  Mighty  Power  which 
controls  the  rapine  of  the  ocean,  was  in  most  oracu- 
lar  mood,  and  its  eternal  motion  gave  its  thunders 
upon  the  rocks !  As  we  round  one  of  the  points  of 
the  star-shaped  isle,  the  sound  of  the  unslumbering 
ocean  becomf^::.  fainter.  We  drop  our  anchor,  and  the 
gentleness  and  shadow  of  evening  seem  to  brood 
upon  the  bosom  of  the  little  bay  where  we  lie.  We 
experience  a  feeling  of  exultation  and  exaltation;  for 
this  was  the  end  we  proposed  in  making  this  long 
voyage. 

Yet  before  I  left  Trondhjem  I  saw  a  hand-bill 
posted  on  a  fish  warehouse  with  the  heading: 

"SPORTING  AND  PLEASURE  TRIP 

TO 

SPITZBERGEN 
BY  WAY  OF  NORTH  CAPE  1 " 


I02  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

I:t  .assured '  the  festive  public  that  good  hunting 
boats,  with  harpooners  and  all  necessary  implements, 
would  a<^company  the  expedition,  and  that  Mr.  Ellert- 
sen,  R.  S.  O.  O.  R.  J.  O.,  an  eminent  Arctic  explorer, 
would  be  along,  and  all  for  one  hundred  dollars,  to  and 
fro !  What  all  these  alphabetical  prefixes  mean — 
thouorh  I  surmise  that  the  O's  refer  to  the  Order  of  Olaf 
— I  am  not  assured;  but  it  was  rather  a  damper  on  our 
enterprise  to  know,  that  it  was  so  easy  to  go  so  much 
further  into  the  wild  Arctic  Sea,  with  its  mystery  of 
waves  and  their  never-sleeping  music.  The  wish 
leaps  to  the  mind,  that  we  could  ascend  some  su- 
preme eminence  at  this  point  for  a  grand  view;  for, 
as  we  approach  the  inscrutable  sea  around  the  pole, 
we  are  stricken  somewhat  with  the  ambition  to  dis- 
cover the  unknown.  Wishes  have  no  limit.  Would 
that  we  could  take  a  conp  deceit  of  the  Norway  which 
we  have  skirted  above  the  circle.  How  would  Macier 
and  snow,  mountain  and  maelstrom,  isle  and  ocean, 
look  from  a  height  lofty  enough  to  grasp  the  situa- 
tion !  Fancy  pictures  it  as  a  great  ridge  of  bent  and 
honey-combed  rock,  with  a  few  spots  of  habitable 
green;  but  full  of  fantastic  indentations  into  the 
very  "  bowels  of  the  land."  These  fissures  divide 
and  subdivide,  and  reach  out  their  branches  till  they 
are  spread  to  naught  in  the  tiny  drops  of  the  melting 
snow  and  ice.  A  little  steamer,  a  little  sail,  a  gull,  a 
fishing-boat;  and  all  the  rest  rock !  Near  and  above 
the  circle,  Norway  narrows  to  less  than  a  hundred 
miles.  Coast  and  country  are  one.  It  is  in  fact  at 
Tromsoe,  the  old  capital  of  Lapland,  a  rocky  ridge 
of  broken  coast,  with  snow  mountains  and  glaciers  up 
to  the  Swedish  border. 

At  the  North  Cape  we  look  out  upon  the  Arctic 
Ocean;  and  but  for  distance  and  Spitzbergen,  not  to 


THE    SUN  AS   A    NIGHT   ORB.  103 

speak  of  another  small  isle  between,  which  lies  due 
north,  we  could  see  the  Polar  Sea,  if  not  the  pole  1 
Let  us  be  content  with  the  prospect.  Besides,  have 
we  not  gone  eastward  as  well  as  northward  ?  We 
are  over  thirty  degrees  north  of  New  York  and  Chi- 
cago. Our  longitude  has  moved  us  eastward,  and 
the  time,  as  men  reckon  time,  has  changed.  Every 
five  degrees  eastward  has  made  a  difference  of  twenty 
minutes.  Our  meals  and  clocks  must  undergo  their 
changes.  We  have  come  to  meet  the  sun  east  as 
well  as  north,  and  are  adding  something  to  our  lives, 
as  some  men  count  living.  Being  extremely  north, 
and  the  circles  of  longitude  being  less,  we  mark  time 
more  rapidly  than  in  New  York;  and  certainly  "make 
more  time"  than  I  have  known  to  be  made  in  W^ash- 
inp-ton!  But  whether  the  deo^rees  be  lono-  or  short, 
the  real  time  is  the  same.  A  degree  here  is  twenty- 
two  miles,  while  at  the  equator  it  is  four  times  as 
much. 

So  accessible  are  these  ultra-northern  places  by 
steam  voyaging  on  the  coast,  that  we  forget  how  far 
north  we  are.  Iceland  is  far  south  of  us,  Greenland 
is  partly  below  our  line  drawn  circularly  westward. 
Behring  Straits  is  not  within  our  magic  Arctic  Circle, 
and  the  ycannctte  was  crushed  not  three  hundred 
miles  further  north.  The  pole  of  the  magnet  would 
be  found  attracting  us  by  its  marvellous  energy, 
somewhere  on  the  same  lines  of  latitude  where  we 
have  moved. 

How  does  this  wild  north  rock  appear  ?  Its  size 
is  not  great  compared  with  other  mountains,  but  it  is 
a  fitting  end,  although  an  isle,  of  a  great  continent. 
It  is  of  mica-slate.  It  is  seamed  with  long  lines  of 
white  and  black,  as  though  marked  by  fire  and  thun- 
der.    It  has  its  caves  washed  by  epochs  of  oceanic 


I04  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

tempest.  At  its  base  is  a  green  fringe  of  sea- weeds, 
which,  on  nearer  inspection,  we  find  very  sHmy  and 
dangerous  to  stand  upon.  Below  this  is  a  white  Hne 
of  breakers,  in  snowy  contrast  with  the  bleak  moun- 
tain and  green  margin.  Our  vessel  is  under  the  shad- 
ow of  the  mountain.  The  harbor,  if  it  be  one,  is 
as  black  as  ink.  As  we  stop,  the  screw  stirs  the 
dark  flood  into  flashes  of  green  and  white,  making 
it  boil  with  unaccustomed  noise,  so  deep  is  the  si- 
lence and  solitude.  The  throb  of  enofine  and  the 
song  of  the  sea  cease,  and  we  are  comparatively 
quiet  in  this  lonely  bight. 

We  are  sent  on  shore  in  the  captain's  gig,  the 
captain  himself  taking  the  helm.  But  the  landing 
is  difficult.  The  slippery  boulders  give  unsafe  foot- 
ing, and  the  women  are  carried  ashore  by  the  sturdy 
sailors.  The  rest  of  us  have  to  be  heedful  of  our 
steps  before  we  are  safe  under  the  frowning  rock. 

Some  of  our  party — the  more  vigorous  Scotch 
young  men — endeavor  to  ascend  the  gulch  in  the 
mountain.  It  has  been  done.  Our  captain  has  done 
it  twice;  but  not  with  such  a  mass  of  melted  and 
melting  snow  as  now  fills  up  the  gorge.  We  see  our 
friends  afar  up,  on  hands  and  knees,  patiently  climb- 
ing. They  fail  and  have  still  more  trouble  and  dan- 
ger in  the  descent.  The  captain  calls  his  company 
— a  score  of  us — together,  and  the  difficulty  of 
reaching  the  small  boat,  especially  by  the  ladies, 
is  overcome. 

On  our  return  to  the  ship,  each  one  lays  -down 
his  trophy.  One  has  a  piece  of  wood  evidently 
borne  by  the  Gulf  Stream  from  America.  It  is 
palmetto.  He  holds  it  aloft,  and  declaims  Bayard 
Taylor's  description,  flourishing  his  proof  of  the  ex- 
istence of  the  grand  river  in  the  ocean.     He  dwells 


THE    SUM  AS   A    NIGHT    ORB.  105 

on  Taylor's  descrii)tion  of  the  island,  as  it  glowed  in 
the  blended  loveliness  of  sunrise  and  sunset,  and 
wondered  if  his  picture  would  be  realized  when  mid- 
night came  !  Another  Scotchman  brings  as  his  tro- 
phy a  beautiful  verdant  cup,  full  of  dewy  wine,  and 
with  the  grace  of  Ganymede,  presents  it  to  a  lady, 
repeating  the  verse,  with  a  thrill  of  music  in  his 
voice: 

"  Ilka  blade  of  grass  keeps  its  drap  of  dew." 

Another  has  his  thermometer,  and  has  been  test- 
ing the  heat  of  the  water,  and  is  reducing  Raumer 
to  Fahrenheit.  It  is  our  surgeon  from  Edinburgh, 
Dr.  Sanderson.  He  has  taken  the  temperature  from 
Trondhjem  up;  and  being  our  scientist,  dilates  on 
his  inductive  experiments.  He  proves  that  the 
coast  is  warmer  than  the  interior,  and  propounds 
the  paradox  that  the  coastal  region  has  a  cooler 
summer  and  a  milder  winter  than  the  interior.  He 
surprises  some  of  us  by  showing,  that  this  entire 
coast  is  warmer  on  the  average  by  20°  than  other 
localities  on  the  same  degrees  of  latitude.  Drift  ice 
is  not  seen  here  at  70°,  while  on  the  American  coasts, 
it  is  seen  at  41°.  Comparing  the  temperature  of  the 
sea  and  the  air,  and  that  of  the  depths  and  the  sur- 
face, he  shows  that  the  sea  is  warmer,  on  the  av- 
erage, than  the  air;  and  that  in  winter,  the  year 
round,  there  is  heat  in  the  depths  but  little 
variant  in  degree,  from  month  to  month.  His  con- 
clusion is  plain;  and  we  have  no  inclination  here 
and  now,  to  dispute  it,  that  the  sea  is  filled  with 
surplus  quantities  of  tropical  caloric,  which  keep 
the  fjords  open  and  the  sea  unfrozen.  For  this 
grand  benison,  the  source  of  life  to  flower,  fish  and 
bird,  and  the  support  of  man  and  beast,  all  honor 


I06  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

to  America  and  her  Gulf  Stream !  Its  heat  makes 
vapor;  and  its  vapor,  mirages;  and  its  mirages,  mon- 
sters; its  monsters,  myths;  its  myths,  the  muses;  and 
from  them  come  the  songs  of  the  Scalds,  which  cel- 
ebrate midnight  auroras  and  suns,  Vandal  lawless- 
ness and  Viking  adventures.  What  does  not  the 
Norseland  owe  to  America  and  her  stream  ?  This 
conclusion  aroused  our  patriotic  emotion. 

Some  of  our  company  display  simple  rounded  peb- 
bles, as  paper-weight  souvenirs  of  the  spot.  The  cap- 
tain, who  has  been  far  up  the  mountain — looking  like  a 
little  silhouette  against  the  immaculate  snow — brings 
a  variety  of  arctic  flowerets  for  general  distribution. 
My  wife  has  a  handkerchief  full  of  little  love  drops 
of  flowers  on  the  tiniest  of  white  moss  tendrils.  One 
sturdy  engineer  bears  in  his  buttonhole,  a  big  bou- 
quet of  the  smallest  and  prettiest  of  flowers  known 
to  the  nomenclature  of  botany.  The  beauty  of  the 
tropics  in  its  daintiest  sense  is  thus  reproduced  at 
this  frozen  and  bleak  end  of  the  continent ! 

What  a  kind  dispensation  is  that  which  places 
amid  the  meagre  mosses  of  this  far-off  Arctic  rock 
these  little  flowers!  How  brief  is  their  summer! 
May,  June,  and  all  the  seasons  of  florescence  which 
are  ours,  are  here  but  for  a  brief  week  or  month. 
These  flowers  are  the  smiles  upon  these  ultimate 
rocks.  These  are  beauteous  proofs  that  summer 
has  reached  these  grim  abodes,  soon  to  be  en- 
veloped in  wintry  gloom.  They  teach  us  that 
the  best  and  holiest  thoughts  may  take  root 
and  bloom  in  the  iciest  home.  Here  were  the 
wildest  estrays  of  the  forest  and  field,  which  cared 
not  for  the  art  of  horticulture,  but  mingled  their 
sweet  blossoms  with  the  snows  of  the  Arctics. 

But  it  is  no  time  to  reflect  or  moralize.     We  pre- 


THE    SUN  AS   A    NIGHT    ORB.  loy 

pare  to  move  from  our  enchanted,  almost  sinister, 
moorinj^s.  The  ^loom  which  Carlyle,  in  his  "Teu- 
fclsdrockh,"  inspires,  comes  over  the  soul,  as  we 
take  our  last  look  at  this  "  Infinite  Brine,"  on  which 
he  located  the  low  and  lazy  sun,  slumbering  on  his 
cloud  couch,  wrought  of  crimson  and  gold,  yet  with 
a  light  streaming  over  the  mirror  of  waters,  like  a 
tremulous  fire  pillar — the  porch  lamp  to  the  palace 
of  the  Eternal.  Shall  we  realize  this  weird  picture 
of  the  cynical  yet  sublime  critic  ? 

In  the  fanua  of  these  northern  lands  and  seas, 
birds  form  a  majority  only  less  than  the  fish.  These 
coasts  are  not  so  frigid,  but  that  they  breed  petrels, 
swans,  geese,  pelicans,  grebes,  auks,  ducks,  gulls, 
and  divers.  The  ducks  are  of  every  variety  and 
color.  Scientific  hunters  have  counted  over  thirty 
kinds.  They  are  to  be  seen  at  every  turn  of  our 
journey  northward.  Whether  they  outnumber  the 
oulls  is  doubtful.  In  the  rushinsf  waters  of  some  of 
these  tide-disturbed  fjords,  these  squawking  gulls 
are  simply  appalling  in  number  and  noise.  In  the 
order  of  swimming-birds,  they  bear  the  palm  for 
variety.  Here  are  found  black-headed  gulls,  bent- 
beak  gulls,  naked-knee  gulls,  spotted  gulls,  brown 
gulls,  white  gulls,  black- winged  gulls,  ashy -blue 
gulls,  black-back  gulls,  yellow  gulls,  gulls  with  one 
kind  of  mandible  and  gulls  with  another,  gulls  with 
and  without  a  hind  toe,  and  gulls — gulls — gulls ! 
Here  they  lay  their  eggs,  hatch  their  young  and 
fish.  But  upon  this  occasion — and  amidst  this  pleni- 
tude of  bird  production,  and  at  this  midnight  hour, 
only  one  solitary  bird — like  that  which  fascinated 
the  Ancient  Mariner — disturbs  our  nocturnal  sun- 
light, upon  the  borders  of  the  Mystic  Sea.  The 
unusual  clangor  of  lifting  the  anchor,  as   we  pre- 


Io8  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

pare  to  leave  the  gloomy  cove  under  the  shadow  of 
this  great  North  rock  disturbs  his  lonely  sleep.  He 
is  a  cormorant.  He  adds  to  the  ghostly  solitude. 
He  has  been  sitting  on  those  drear  and  desolate 
rocks — a  lone  fisherman — from  which  he  dives  for 
his  prey.  He  flies  in  a  confused  way  about  our  boat ; 
as  if  inspecting  the  causes  of  this  exceptional  intru- 
sion into  his  waste.  It  is  said  that  this  bird  is  one 
of  evil  omen.     The  verse  has  it: 

"Slowly  the  cormorant  aims  his  heavy  flight, 
Portending  ruin  to  each  baleful  rite." 

The  Druids  believed  that  its  appearance  during  the 
celebration  of  their  mysteries,  was  portentous;  and 
Milton  could  find  nothing  so  fit  for  the  incarnation 
of  the  arch-fiend  as  the  cormorant.  It  is  a  bird  of 
prey  and  though  it  will  live  harmoniously  with 
other  birds,  it  will  not  allow  other  birds  to  feed, 
when  it  is  hungry. 

We  found  no  evil  in  its  lonely  appearance  here. 
But  those  who  followed  after  us,  suffered  shipwreck, 
near  this  very  spot.  A  company  of  Americans — - 
ladies, — started  to  take  our  route  to  the  midnight 
sun.  Mrs.  Joseph  Wright,  whose  husband,  Gov- 
ernor Wright,  was  once  our  Minister  in  Berlin, 
her  dauofhter  and  ofrand-daucrhter  were  of  the  un- 
fortunate  company.  We  met  them  at  Christiana 
on  our  return  from  the  Arctics,  and  rather  per- 
suaded them  to  adventure  where  we  found  it  so 
easy.  They  went.  They  saw  the  sun  at  midnight ; 
they  landed  at  North  Cape,  as  we  did;  they  started 
home.  Within  three  hours  after  their  vessel's  prow 
was  turned  south,  and  in  the  Arctic  Ocean,  they 
were  befogged,  struck  a  rocky  isle,  and  were  nearly 
wrecked  while  sleeping.     They  were  helped  to  the 


THE    SUN  AS   A    NIGHT    ORB.  109 

rock,  and  remained  twelve  liours  in  a  pelting  storm, 
listening  to  the  tolling  of  the  ship's  bell  rocked  by 
the  waves,  until  our  vessel,  the  yoJin  ScJwnin<^,  with 
our  Captain  Benson,  arrived  to  rescue  them. 

Little  did  we  reck  of  danger,  nor  heed  the  por- 
tentous cormorant,  as  with  enthusiastic  hearts,  we 
prepare  for  the  midnight  phenomenon.  Steam  is  up. 
The  hour  of  twelve  approaches.  All  are  on  the  qui 
vive  for  the  midnight  sun  !  Twenty  of  us  are  at  the 
prow  with  our  watches  out.  The  old  orb  is  radiant. 
The  captain  calls  out:  "Five  minutes  of  twelve!" 
Will  the  orb  disappoint  us  ?  There  is  a  heavy  cloud 
above  in  the  zenith,  but  it  is  lined  with  silver,  and  a 
line  of  cirrus  clouds  lies  just  above  his  majesty.  Like 
a  king  of  day  he  is  enthroned  without  obscuration  be- 
tween the  long  line  of  clouds,  on  pearl  and  amber, 
orange  and  gold,  all  the  hues  of  the  prism  vanishing 
into  a  soft  radiance  with  the  close  struggle  between 
sunset  and  sunrise. 

A  minute  to  twelve !  He  still  remains  round  and 
radiant.  Twelve  !  Hurrah  !  Hurrah  !  It  is  done,  and 
the  cheers  go  up  from  this  solitude,  arousing  its  echoes. 
The  rim  of  the  horizon,  far  off  to  the  north,  where  the 
pole  is  supposed  to  be,  is  silvered  with  a  pale,  weird 
beauty.  It  grows  pink  and  then  scarlet;  and  this 
Arctic  desolation  is  made  a  living  splendor, 

"Self  withdrawn  into  a  wondrous  depth, 
Far  sinking  into  splendor  without  end  !  " 

This  is  the  phenomenon  which  we  have  come  so 
far  to  witness.  The  captain  is  on  the  bridge.  ''II fait 
accompli','  I  sing  out  to  him  from  below. 

"  Give  it  to  me  in  good  English,  Meister  Cox." 
I  say,  "  We  are  all  happy.     The  great  transaction 
is  done." 


no  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

"  Prepare  to  fish ! "  is  the  practical  response  and 
emphatic  order  of  the  captain.  All  is  bustle.  The 
sailors  prepare  the  tackle.  The  lines  are  out,  the 
captain  leading  with  two  codfish.  I  soon  follow,  and 
the  sailors  are  busy.  Mirth  goes  round  at  each  suc- 
cess. My  wife,  a  good  fisherman  generally,  tugs 
away  at  her  long  line  until,  like  the  gentle  admiral, 
she  suddenly  "  goes  below."  My  courier,  Rene,  the 
Dane,  catches  a  monster,  all  golden  as  the  sun  itself. 
[Cheers.]  Then  a  Scotchman  gets  in  a  hideous  hog 
fish  of  twenty-five  pounds.  [Laughter.]  Our  stew- 
ardess, Julia,  hauls  in  a  monster.  [Renewed  cheers 
and  laughter.]  And  so  we  keep  it  up  till  two  in  the 
golden  morning,  when  to  sleep  we  go,  covering  the 
port-holes  so  as  to  pretend  it  is  night. 

We  had  made  many  sacrifices  to  see  this  remark- 
able performance  of  our  luminary.  Not  that  either 
of  us  was  over-anxious  to  find  a  land  where  sunset 
did  not  occur.  We  had  hoped  that  there  was  no 
realm  in  this  or  the  future  existence  where  "  Sunset" 
might  not  happen.  But  I  may  be  allowed  to  remark 
since  I  have  borne  the  sobriquet  of  "  Sunset "  for  so 
many  years,  and  it  has  sounded  so  often,  with  such 
sweet  sibilation,  that  I  had  come  to  believe  that  I  had 
a  sort  of  fee  simple  in  its  fairyland,  with  its  gorgeous 
palaces  and  cloud-capped  towers.  Here  in  the  up- 
permost point  in  Europe,  and  at  this  midsummer  sea- 
son there  is  no  sunset !  Bring  burial  weeds  and  sable 
plume;  for  there  is  no  sunset !  Lift  the  funeral  song 
of  woe;  and  tell  through  the  land  that  sunset  is  no 
more;  and  yet  I  live! 

And  must  I  now  be  disenchanted  ?  Do  I  live, 
and  is  sunset  no  more  ?  Do  I  see  a  country  where 
the  sun  is  Sfoinof,  fjoinor  down  amid  a  mise  en  scejte 
equal,  if  not  superior,  to  that  Ohio  evening  years 


THE    SUN  AS   A    NIGHT   ORB.  1 1  i 

aci'O,  which  I  tried  to  portray  with  my  poor  pen — 
and  yet  it  does  not  go  down  ?  Was  it  not  enouc,di 
that  for  ten  long-  days,  or  day,  there  was  no  night  for 
lis,  and  that  the  sun,  by  gHding  and  glowing  in  the 
north  without  any  respite,  had  disturbed  our  custom- 
ary experiences  ?  The  reaction  might  be  too  sudden. 
The  failure  of  our  old  orb  to  set  might — well,  there  is 
no  telling  the  cataleptic  and  other  dire  consequences. 
But  here  was  the  patent  fact !  Here  were  clouds  and 
lights,  all  the  hues  of  the  prism  in  splendid  display, 
and  yet  no  sunset  after  all !  The  unsetting  and  the 
unsettable  sun!  Midnight,  and  yet  light  all  aglow! 
No  gas,  no  candles,  no  stars,  no  moon — only  the  fiery 
orb  and  his  "  trailing  clouds  of  glory." 

Must  we  send  to  the  limbo  of  departed  poetry,  all 
the  imagery  with  which  sunsets  are  decorated  ?  No. 
The  flow  and  glow  of  the  setting  orb,  has  not  been 
overshadowed  by  that  of  the  unsetting.  Even  a 
Norse  poet, — as  Tennyson  has  translated  it, — has 
pictured  his  preference  for  that  glory,  from  when  first 
the  great  sun-star  of  morning-tide — Lamp  of  the 
Lord  God— glode  over  earth,  till  the  glorious  crea- 
ture sunk  to  his  setting. 

But  is  not  the  sun  all-sufficient  without  other  fires  ? 
If  he  stays  up  and  sets  not,  what  more  can  the  hu- 
man heart  desire  ?  What  wonder  that  the  Oriental 
mind  clothed  the  sun  with  the  majesty  of  divinity, 
and  that  the  Magi  saluted  his  coming  with  worship, 
as  the  source  of  life  ?  What  wonder  that  his  beams 
evoked  music  from  Memnon  ?  Is  he  not  the  creator 
of  health  and  the  great  benefactor  ?  And  we  have 
found  a  land  where  he  will  not  rest ! 

The  sensation  was  as  new  as  it  was  humiliating  to 
my  amour  propre.  I  recalled  the  words  of  a  Yankee 
character:  "  It's  relly  affectin'  to  think  how  little  these 


112  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

'ere  folks  is  missed  that's  so  much  sot  by.  There 
ain't  nobody,  ef  they's  ever  so  important,  but  what 
the  world  gets  to  goin'  on  without  'em,  pretty  much 
as  it  did  with  'em,  though  there's  some  little  flurry  at 
first." 

How  much  can  be  done,  after  all,  in  nature  and  in 
science,  art  and  government,  without  us.  Govern- 
ments will  run,  men  and  women  dance  and  love, 
trade  and  trouble  proceed  without  sunset !  Here  in 
this  land  of  the  frigid  zone,  for  ten  days  and  more 
we  had  seen  boats  in  full  rig  and  sail,  mountains  of 
lofty  altitude  musical  with  fosses,  glaciers  miles  in 
length  moving  on  their  quiet  and  steady  way,  men 
hauling  in  fish  by  the  million,  whales  disporting,  and 
a  steamer  pushing  its  mazy  way  through  the  deep 
waters  shut  in  by  volcanic  walls  from  angry  seas — 
and  yet  no  sunset!  New  York  and  America  callous 
to  the  fact  and  moving  on  restlessly,  with  alternation 
of  lights  and  shades,  love  and  hate,  bad  and  good, 
night  and  day,  thinking  of  everything  and  forgetting 
that  sunsets  are  not  everywhere  and  forever.  Still, 
though  I  have  seen  and  recorded  the  fact  that  sun- 
set is  no  longer  here,  let  there  be  no  premature 
obituaries. 

To  appreciate  seriously  these  phenomena,  we 
must  go  back  to  the  rudiments  of  astronomy  and 
geography.  Go  back  to  the  invisible  circle,  and 
while  endeavoring  to  decipher  the  horseman  and 
the  horse,  through  which  the  circle  is  clearly  ascer- 
tainable, by  faith  and  science,  let  us  look  around — • 
around  our  star!  The  first  impression  is  that  the 
star  is  round.  That  is  not  a  complex  idea;  but  there 
are  suggestions  about  it  that  to  the  ordinary  mind 
are  complicated,  if  not  confusing  to  the  general  ex- 
perience.    To  such   this  circle  and  its  phenomena 


THE    SUN  AS   A    NIGHT    ORB.  II3 

are  a  mystery.  It  is  a  mystery,  because  above  it, 
in  ever-contracting'  circles,  till  it  runs  to  naught  at 
the  pole,  the  sun  shines  only  a  portion  of  the  year, 
without  going  under.  Within  it  is  a  horizon  for  a 
part  of  the  year  which  never  hides  the  blessed  light, 
where  our  moon  and  stars  forget  to  light  their 
lamps,  and  where  the  earth  alone  seems  repairing  to 
the  home  of  light  with  "  its  golden  urn."  When 
the  spring  begins,  this  favored  region  has  but  a  spot 
of  continuous  shine,  but  it  grows  with  the  ever- 
widening  circle  from  the  Pole  to  the  Arctic,  until  on 
midsummer's  day,  the  day  we  left  Trondhjem,  it  has 
run  down  lines  of  longitude  twenty-three  and  a 
half  degrees,  or  66°  30  north  latitude.  There  it 
tremulously  lingers  and  moves  to  the  polar  regions, 
to  make  the  brip-ht  little  o-em  of  lisfht  from  which 
it  started. 

The  other  half  of  this  process  for  half  a  year  is 
dedicated  to  the  Antarctic,  while  Night  for  six  months 
folds  its  wing,  radiant  with  strange  auroras,  over  these 
regions.  These  vicissitudes  are  as  orderly  as  the 
seasons  of  the  moderate  zones.  It  is  our  experience 
which  makes  them  seem  eccentric;  and  this  experi- 
ence gives  to  the  scenery,  to  time,  to  the  clouds 
and  mountains,  the  fjords  and  snows,  the  glamour  of 
unreality.  We  are,  so  to  speak,  inverted.  Some 
sense  of  the  comic  if  not  of  the  cosmic,  relations  we 
bear  to  space  and  stars  and  suns  comes  over  us;  and 
the  light  we  bask  in  at  midnight  is  as  strange  as  that 
"  which  never  was  on  sea  or  land — the  consecration, 
and  the  poet's  dream." 

Here  are  day  of  days  and  night  of  nights!  This 
is  plain  to  the  eye,  and  it  takes  ever  so  slight  a  re- 
flection to  understand  it  fully.  It  is  complex,  until 
we  remember  that  the  earth  goes  round  the  sun  in  an 


114  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

eclipse — a  problem  which  men  have  been  ready  to  de- 
fend even  unto  death.  In  oroin^f  round  the  sun  the 
earth  inclines  its  axis  to  the  plane  in  which  it  moves. 
If  the  earth  did  not  thus  "tenderly  incline" — if  it  stood 
stiff  and  perpendicular,  without  courting  the  graces 
— every  inch  of  its  surface  would  have  its  night  and 
day  equally  divided.  But  it  plays  the  erect  only 
twice  a  year,  at  the  intersection  of  the  ecliptic  and 
the  equator.  These  are  days  of  absolute  equity  of 
distribution  in  the  spring  and  fall.  Twice  a  year, 
March  21st  and  September  21st,  the  half  of  the 
earth  along  its  axis  is  illuminated.  These  are  the 
equinoxes.  God  determined  thai  for  a  year  our 
earth  should  make  its  bow,  half  the  time  to  one 
and  half  to  the  other  pole.  The  angle  of  this  obei- 
sance of  our  earth  to  its  plane  measures  the  dis- 
tance from  the  pole  to  the  circle. 

It  is  a  plain  conclusion  from  these  facts  that  the 
Arctic  Circle  within  which  we  are  moving  just  now 
girdles  the  earth  with  only  eight  thousand  miles. 
If  we  would  make  a  straight  march  around  the  circle, 
we  would  save  one-fourth  of  the  journey  in  miles , 
and  if  around  where  we  are  now  at  this  North  Cape 
on  our  line  of  latitude,  which  is  about  72°,  it  would 
be  one-half  less,  or  one-fourth  of  the  distance  around 
our  globe  at  the  equator. 

At  the  North  Cape  the  sun  is  first  seen  at  full  at 
midnight,  on  the  13th  of  May;  at  Hammerfest  on  the 
1 6th;  at  Tromsoe  on  the  20th;  and  at  Bodo — about 
a  degree  above  the  circle — on  the  4th  of  June.  At 
Bodo,  it  is  seen  until  the  8th  of  July,  or  thirty- 
two  days;  at  Tromsoe  until  the  2 2d;  at  Hammerfest 
until  the  27th;  and  at  North  Cape  until  the  30th  of 
July.  It  is  visible  as  a  full  orb,  at  the  cape,  over 
two  and  a  half  months.     The  traveller  must  seize 


THE    SUN  AS    A    NIGHT    ORB.  115 

the  days  accordingly.  At  Bodo,  the  sun  goes  out 
of  the  sky  on  the  i5th  of  December,  and  peeps  up 
again  on  the  28th;  at  the  North  Cape  it  goes  out  on 
the  1 8th  of  November,  and  returns  on  the  24th. 
But  these  dates  do  not  convey  the  idea  of  the  long 
night,  nor  of  the  long  day,  as  the  sun  does  not 
wholly  lose  its  light,  or  fully  shine  during  these  in- 
tervals. One  result  is  a  short  summer,  and  a  long 
winter.  If  one  could  be  at  the  pole,  in  the  centre 
of  the  great  spiral  movement  of  the  sun, — but  that 
is  not  an  adventure — for  us. 

However,  we  may  approximate  toward  the  pole, 
by  standing  on  an  elevation.  My  observations  thus 
far,  have  been  on  a  level  with  the  horizon;  but  get 
above  it,  climb  a  mountain,  and  the  sun  will  seem 
higher.  If  you  climb  two  hundred  and  twenty  feet, 
you  travel  north  fifteen  miles.  If  you  stand  on  a 
hill  that  high,  you  would  see  the  sun  a  day  sooner. 
Tourists  do  this  at  Avasaxa,  in  Sweden,  from  Hap- 
aranda !  It  is  just  on  the  circle,  north  of  the  Gulf  of 
Bothnia,  fourteen  hundred  and  eight  miles  from  the 
pole.  The  sun  shines — all  day  and  all  night  there 
on  the  2  2d  of  June.  It  is  seen  due  north.  On  the 
2  2d  of  September,  it  descends  and  rests  on  the  rim 
of  the  sky,  and  on  the  2  2d  goes  out  altogether,  till 
the  2 2d  of  March! 


CHAPTER    IX. 

RETURNING  FROM  LAPLAND — SUNDAY  SERVICES  WITH- 
IN THE  ARCTIC  CIRCLE — A  FOURTH  OF  JULY  CELE- 
BRATION— PICTURES   OF   THE   NORWEGIAN   COAST. 

"  The  needle  turns  aiuay  from  the  rising  sun,  front  the  me- 
ridian, from  the  oceidental,  from  regions-  of  fragrancy,  and  gold 
and  gems,  and  moves  "with  unerring  impulse  to  the  frosts  and 
deserts  of  the  north." — Walter  Savage  Landor. 

F  there  be  monotony  in  this  returning  voyage,  it 
is  agreeably  broken  and  diverted  by  many  inci- 
dents, not  the  least  pleasing  among  which  is  our 
Sabbath  on  board.  We  have  two  English  clergy- 
men with  us.  Upon  both  the  Sabbaths  we  have 
spent  aboard  we  have  had  divine  service.  On  our 
last  Sabbath  the  service  was  interesting  and  beau- 
tiful. All  joined  in  it,  even  our  skeptical  Scotchmen 
and  their  Presbyterian  compatriots.  The  captain 
stopped  the  vessel  at  lo  a.  m.  for  this  purpose. 
While  our  friends  in  New  York  were  absorbed  in 
worldly  affairs,  our  little  company  above  the  arctics 
were  upon  their  knees  invoking  the  Divine  Power 
to  give  us  everlasting  day  in  a  world  where  no  night 
is!  The  rector  from  Devonshire  read  the  service, 
and  the  clergyman  of  St.  Paul's  led  the  responses. 
The  tenth  chapter  of  Acts  was  read  as  a  "  lesson  " 
in  the  humanities.  It  was  the  story  of  Cornelius 
and  Peter,  and  taught  that  "  God  is  no  respecter  of 
persons."     The  other  part  of  the  service  was  ren- 


RETURNING    FROM  LAPLAND.  II7 

dered  impressive  by  the  often  -  recurring  words 
which  indicated  our  situation.  "  The  Lord  judgeth 
the  ends  of  the  earth,"  said  the  pastor,  and  there 
was  a  pause  as  if  we  were  not  altogether  excluded 
from  the  "  Great  Day." 

The  other  lesson  was  the  simple  story  of  little 
Samuel — "  The  third  Sunday  after  Trinity."  I  am 
not  an  adept  in  the  Episcopal  service,  but  I  am 
familiar  with  Samuel,  and  have  been  his  constant 
companion  since  I  could  remember.  The  story  had 
a  new  meaning-  in  these  high  latitudes.  Its  imagery 
was  beautifully  appropriate:  "  Neither  is  there  any 
rock  like  our  God! "  "  The  bows  of  the  mighty  men . 
are  broken !  "  and  my  response  was  a  thought  of 
Olaf  and  Harold  and  those  Norsemen  who  from  the 
far  Hellespont  to  the  Hebrides  once  held  many  lands 
captive.  "  He  lifteth  up  the  beggar  out  of  the 
dunghill  to  set  him  among  princes;"  and  I  thought 
of  the  son  of  the  French  notary  of  the  Pyrenees, 
Bernadotte,  who  has  given  a  new  dynasty  to  Scan- 
dinavia. The  lesson  closed  with  the  words:  "And 
the  child  Samuel  ercw  on  and  orrew  in  favor,  both 
with  the  Lord  and  also  with  men."  Then  I  thought 
of  my  own  unworthiness  to  be  so  favored,  and  then 
of  my  constituency  far,  far  away. 

After  the  service,  my  wife  and  some  of  her  Pres- 
byterian friends  raised  the  old  hymns  with  which 
Glasgow,  Edinburgh,  New  York,  and  Ohio  are  ac- 
customed to  make  melody  in  their  hearts.  Coming 
out  of  this  extreme  north,  far  beyond  what  the  com- 
forts of  conveyance  would  lead  us  to  expect;  far  be- 
yond our  Alaskan  possessions,  or  even  Behring's 
Straits,  and  again  sailing  south  amid  similar  scenery, 
but  by  differents  routes — I  am  tempted  to  make  a 
resume  of  the  characteristics  and  allurements  of  this 


Il8  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

land.  Our  captain  tells  us  that  we  have  voyaged 
more  than  fifteen  hundred  miles.  Sometimes  we  have 
been  in  the  open  sea,  and  have  managed — there 
being  no  night — to  sleep  away  its  melancholy  ex- 
perience; for,  in  spite  of  all  the  trials  upon  its  tur- 
bulent breast,  and  with  the  wind  rudely  blowing 
from  the  North  Sea,  one  cannot  overcome  the  chief 
obstacle  in  travelling — the  prejudice  in  favor  of  tak- 
ing our  bodies,  with  all  their  infirmities,  along. 
Most  of  the  time  we  have  been  shut  in  by  the  walls 
of  rock  from  its  tempestuous  consequences.  On  our 
return,  the  grey,  grotesque,  and  fire-twisted  moun- 
tains are  half  screened  with  veils  of  clouds.  They 
are  shrubless  and  overhanging,  dark  and  lowering 
with  clouds  at  times.  Often  for  miles  on  the  coast 
they  are  worn  round  and  worn  down  by  the  wash 
of  ages;  yet  upon  every  horizon  they  show  their  Ti- 
tanic peaks  and  ranges,  and  among  them  always 
some  one  mountain  is  preeminent,  with  his  head 
clothed  in  the  majesty  of  sunlit  clouds,  and  by  his 
"  great  looks  and  power  imperial "  reminding  us  of 
Jove  amid  the  Olympians ! 

Althoucjh  our  return  route  has  been  chanQ^ed,  so 
as  to  take  in  other  stations,  omitted  upon  our  jour- 
ney up,  the  same  features  appear — now  an  open  lake, 
as  beautiful  as  Geneva  or  Seneca,  closed  by  and  re- 
flecting its  surrounding  mountains;  then  a  narrow 
channel,  like  a  canal,  so  straight  it  is,  and  seemingly 
enclosed  by  the  masonry  of  man,  so  regular  are  its 
stones  laid  upon  the  shore.  Then  it  winds  in  and 
out  of  tiny  fjords,  where,  dressed  in  a  little  greenery 
and  flecked  with  patches  of  snow,  pastures  and  gar- 
dens, appear  the  red  wooden  houses  on  stone  foun- 
dations, with  green  turf  roofs,  often  covered  with 
arctic  flowers.     Rough  and  wintry  as  all  this  aspect 


RETURNING    FROM  LAPLAND.  119 

is,  Still  it  is  not  "  roughinc^  it "  to  travel  in  summer 
as  we  do.  It  is  like  having-  Switzerland,  with  its 
cascades,  glaciers,  pinnacles,  and  domes,  many  scarred 
and  seamed,  dropped  down  into,  or  flooded  by  the 
ever-restless  ocean.  Call  it  inland  or  sea-coast,  or 
double  it  with  the  sun's  reflections  upon  the  wa- 
tery surfaces,  there  is  still  a  variety  and  unity  of  ele- 
mental wonders,  which  imply  "  a  conflict  of  ages," 
and  other  conflicts  for  future  ages. 

I  will  not  disguise  the  fact  that  there  is  much  dis- 
comfort in  this  trip.  There  is  the  long  fortnight 
upon  the  vessel,  with  its  occasional  qualms  in  the 
open  sea,  which  we  cross  some  half  dozen  times. 
There  is  the  unpleasant  odor  which  comes  to  us 
from  the  hold,  where  fish  and  cod-liver  oil  are 
stored,  and  which  is  not  omitted  when  we  land 
at  the  little  towns  upon  our  routes.  There  is  the 
thumping  and  rattling  of  chains  as  we  load  and  un- 
load by  day  or  night,  in  or  out  of  bed.  There  is 
the  absence  from  the  world,  and  its  advancing  and 
absorbing  interests,  from  which  it  is  hard  to  be  al- 
together divorced.  But  there  is  compensation  for 
all  this  in  the  novelties  and  grandeur  of  the  scenery 
and  voyage.  Besides,  cannot  we  run  upon  the 
rocky  shores  every  few  hours,  when  the  vessel 
stops,  and  see  strange  faces,  habits,  and  costumes  ? 
Have  we  not  seen  every  shape  and  picture  which 
fire  and  water,  frost  and  storm,  can  engrave  out  of 
rocks  ?  Upon  shipboard,  have  we  not  resources  in 
the  desire  of  all  to  please,  and  the  hundred  employ- 
ments and  enjoyments  that  shorten  the  long  and 
nightless  hours  ?  Have  we  not  viewed,  if  not  visited, 
the  ten  thousand  islands  which  made  Norway  the 
nurse  of  nations  ?  Have  we  not  seen  the  midnight- 
turned  into  a  solecism, — a  sunset  that  had  no  "going 


I20  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

down  thereof,"  but  only  the  forerunner  and  foreglow 
of  sunrise  ?  Have  we  not  stood  on  that  lone  cape, 
described  by  that  wizard  of  the  pen,  Carlyle,  and 
had  the  infinite  satisfaction  of  verifying  the  Gulf 
Stream  ?  Have  we  not  resolved  the  barrenness  of 
the  arctic  landscape  into  something  more  than  rock 
and  ice  ?  Have  we  not  gathered  from  the  very 
mantle  of  snow,  where  little  gardens  of  moss  love 
to  spring  under  the  brief  but  brisk  flight  of  summer, 
the  most  delicate  flowers,  rock  pinks,  daisies,  but- 
tercups, Bethlehem  stars,  bluest  "  forget-me-nots," 
and  little  violets,  all  modest  and  sweet — reminders 
of  home  and  other  days  ?  Have  we  not  found  in 
these  waifs  in  their  bleak  gardens  within  the  circle, 
the  tokens  which  bid  a  thousand  tender  associations 
arise  ?  Have  we  not  hunted  the  beautiful  birch  with 
its  clear  green  leaves,  and  stems  of  silver,  in  its  na- 
tive forest  home,  and  followed  its  hardy  growth,  until 
its  limitation  was  drawn  with  the  brown  fell  vegeta- 
tion of  moss  and  lichen  ?  Have  we  not  seen,  in  its 
short  summer,  sallow  willow,  ash,  beech,  oak  and 
pine,  lending  their  garniture  to  the  land  of  the 
Lapps  ?  Have  we  not  seen  in  the  vast  studio  of 
nature  the  thousand  varied  forms  which  the  sculp- 
tors, fire,  frost,  and  tempest,  have  shaped,  more 
wonderful  and  magical  in  their  work  than  the  fa- 
bled creatures  of  fairyland  ?  Besides,  have  we  not 
traversed  the  waters  made  memorable  by  the  names 
of  navigators  who  sailed  and  ruled  a  thousand  years 
ago  ?  Here  were  spots  where  Nadclhold,  the  sea 
rover,  lived,  before  he  discovered  Iceland,  that  home 
of  exiled  Norse  genius,  learning,  and  devotion;  here 
once  roved  Erick  the  Red,  before  he  found  and 
founded  Greenland;  here  Bjorn  was  trained  before 
he   discovcrel,   long  before   the   Genoese,  the   new 


RETURNING   FROM  LAPLAND.  121 

world,  which  he  named  Yinland;  and  here,  in  tlie 
year  1000  after  Christ,  Lief  Erickson  lived,  before 
either  he  or  Kalsefre  placed  foot  on  Massachusetts 
soil !  Are  not  these  the  children  of  the  wild  fjords  ? 
Did  not  they  adventure  from  the  Bosphorus  to  Cape 
Cod,  nearly  five  hundred  years  before  Isabella  gave 
her  jewels  to  found  her  faith  in  a  new  hemisphere  ? 
Along-  with  Hudson,  Americus,  Vasco  de  Gama,  and 
even  Columbus,  the  names  of  those  sea  kings  who 
pushed  their  prows  so  far  that  they  made  west,  east, 
and  "  sailed  the  Dragon's  mouth,  and  came  upon 
the  mountain  of  the  world,  and  saw  the  rivers  roll 
from  Paradise  " — receive  the  o-randest  Qruerdons  for 
chivalry  upon  the  perilous  and  mobile  element: 

"  Those  who  toil  bravely  are  strongest, 
The  humble  and  poor  become  great; 
And  so  from  these  brown-handed  children 
Have  grown  mighty  rulers  of  state." 

Were  there  no  object  in  travelling  for  recreation 
and  health;  were  there  no  external  beauty  of  nature 
in  her  rugged  and  stormy  aspect,  on  sea  and  land; 
these  historic  associations,  which  bind  the  year  of  our 
Lord  one  thousand  to  American  shores,  with  the  ad- 
ventures of  the  Vikings  from  Norseland,  Iceland  and 
Greenland,  should  suffice  to  make  a  Norwegian  tour 
of  interest  to  Americans.  The  Pre-Columbian  dis- 
coveries, the  annals  of  which  are  as  authentic  as  those 
of  the  Great  Discoverer  himself,  lend  a  strano-e  charm 
to  these  cradles  of  the  deep,  wherein  between  rocks 
the  children  of  the  sea  were  nursed  for  their  daring 
enterprises. 

For  all  the  drawbacks  of  this  unaccustomed  travel, 
therefore,  we  have  been  repaid  with  compound  in- 
terest.   To  appreciate  a  smooth  and  pleasant  voyage 


122  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

one  must  have  head  winds  and  rough  seas  awhile; 
and  here  is  found  the  balm  after  pain,  the  reward  after 
trouble,  in  most  grateful  recompense.  It  is  beyond 
my  comprehension  how  tourists  can  take  the  weari- 
ness and  ennui  of  an  Atlantic  trip,  and  rest  content 
in  Paris,  London,  or  Berlin.  New  York  City  is  in 
most  respects  their  counterfeit  presentment.  To 
those  who,  like  ourselves,  are  fresh  from  the  galler- 
ies and  temples  of  art  in  the  great  capitals,  who  have 
within  a  few  weeks  heard  Booth,  Irving,  and  McCul- 
lough,  and  hung  enraptured  upon  the  music  and  pan- 
tomime of  the  Grand  Opera  of  Paris,  with  all  its  gor- 
geousness  and  taste,  who  have  heard  the  orators  of 
the  French  and  English  forum  "  grace  the  noble  fer- 
vor of  the  hour,"  by  winged  words  that  go  to  the 
uttermost  oarts  of  the  earth,  bearino-  their  dominatinof 
spirit  and  decree,  and  who  have  so  recently  in  the 
Salon  of  Paris  and  the  Academy  of  London,  and  in 
the  museums  and  palaces  of  Holland  and  Denmark, 
gazed  upon  pictures  of  entrancement — these  rude 
scenes  in  the  northern  water-ways  are  nevertheless 
within  a  charmed,  though  it  be  an  Arctic  Circle. 

As  I  write,  I  look  through  the  humble  but  sub- 
stantial frame  of  my  port-hole  upon  an  unfamiliar 
scene,  half  concealed  by  the  vapor,  but  growing  with 
every  pulsation  of  the  vessel  into  new  forms  of  beauty. 
It  is  a  distant  snow  mountain,  nebulous  as  cloudland 
in  semblance,  but  substantial,  under  a  glow  of  light, 
with  shining  splendor.  It  grows  and  grows  as  I 
gaze,  into  a  line  of  illuminated  peaks,  until,  with  one 
great  flood  of  light,  it  bursts  upon  rock  and  fjord, 
making,  by  its  magic  touches  of  light,  the  great  shad- 
ows fly  before  its  power ! 

We  stop  our  boat  to  take  in  bales  of  birch-bark 
and  barrels  of  oil.     There  is  no  romance  in  this;  but 


RETURNING    FROM   LAPLAND.  123 

looking  to  the  east,  we  sec,  founded  upon  a  promon- 
tory of  volcanic  rock,  a  whole  village  of  curious 
people,  clad  in  curious  clothes,  and  anxious  to  wave 
their  hands  in  salutation.  We  wave  our  handker- 
chiefs in  return,  and  the  response  makes  us  under- 
stand even  more  than  the  strange  scenery,  that  one 
touch  of  nature  hath  made  the  whole  world  kin ! 

I  am  advised  that  we  are  approaching  the  Sund- 
strom.  I  ask  the  mate  if  we  pass  the  maelstrom,  and 
is  this  Strom  as  fearful  to  navigate  ? 

"  The  maelstrdm  !  Pah  !  It's  nothing.  We  make 
nothing  of  that  now,  with  steam."  He  points  out  the 
direction  we  are  taking,  and  says:  "This  strom  is 
something  when  the  spring  tides  come  with  their  im- 
mense volumes  on  volumes  of  water  four  times  a  day. 
It  requires  all  our  skill." 

Returning  to  my  infantile  horror,  the  maelstrom, 
I  remembered  how  it  had  been  intensified,  by  read- 
ing Jules  Verne's  view  of  the  vortex,  into  which  his 
hero  descended.  From  the  top  of  Helseggen,  within 
the  interior  of  Lofoden,  he  saw  the  sea  in  its  head- 
long and  monstrous  impetuosity,  and  he  heard  its 
moaning,  like  that  of  a  vast  herd  of  buffaloes  upon 
an  American  prairie !  Between  Moskoe  and  the 
coast  the  main  uproar  held  its  sway.  Here  the 
vast  bed  of  the  waters,  seamed  and  scarred  into 
a  thousand  conflicting  channels,  burst  suddenly  into 
phrensied  convulsion  —  heaving,  boiHng,  hissing- 
gyrating  in  gigantic  and  innumerable  vortices,  and 
all  whirling  and  plunging  on  to  the  eastward  with  a 
rapidity  which  water  never  elsewhere  assumes  ex- 
cept in  precipitous  descents.  From  the  dizzy  height, 
the  desolate  panorama  of  an  inky  ocean,  lashing  the 
ramparts  of  the  world,  went  on,  with  ghastly  crest, 
howling  and  shrieking  forever!     I  was  not  altogether 


124  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

pacified  by  the  mate's  assurances,  so  I  asked  again 
"  Do  the  fishermen  fear  the  current  ?  " 

"  Fear  ?  Once  in  a  while,  as  in  any  rough  sea 
and  weather  they  may  be  upset,  and  go  under;  but 
they  generally  turn  up.  Shoals  of  fish  are  attracted 
either  by  the  running  water,  or  drawn  by  the  cur- 
rent; the  fish  attract  fishermen,  and  the  rocks  are 
crowded  with  gulls  and  other  birds.  I  haven't  heard 
of  a  fisherman  or  a  bird  being  lost  there." 

"  Is  it  true  that  whales  are  sucked  into  the  eddies 
and  caught,  or  killed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,  sometimes,  in  some  places;  but 
the  whirlpool  is  a  myth.  There's  no  more  conical 
vortex  there,  than  there  is  anywhere  in  these  tidal 
and  island  waters.  That  the  maelstrom  is  a  bottom- 
less conical  abyss,  is  nonsense.  Vessels  do  not  go 
often  into  the  current  between  the  Moskenaes  and 
Vaerve  where  it  is  supposed  to  be.  They  take  our 
route  between  the  Lofoden  group  and  the  main 
coast.  Here  is  current  enough;  and  mdcl-stroin, 
means  bad  current.  When  it  meets  the  tides  in  the 
strait  between  those  isles,  there  is  a  wild  time. 
The  sea  boileth  as  a  pot.  Whales  are  not  sucked 
down,  no  more  than  ships;  but  there  is,"  he  said, 
"  a  little  inlet  between  the  rocks,  opposite  a  farm- 
house, which  is  at  times  deep  and  at  other  times 
shallow;  and  whales  run  in  for  some  purpose,  when 
it  is  deep;  they  get  trapped  and  flounder  about,  when 
it  is  shallow.  The  farmer  makes  quite  a  sum  by 
cultivating^  their  blubber." 

The  Strom  is  near  the  village  of  Griano,  where  we 
are  to  rest,  and  it  takes  us  out  of  our  direct  southern 
path.  Still  we  venture.  This  is  the  Sundstrom;  and 
it  has  swamped  ships  and  killed  whales;  but  we  ven- 
ture.   The  rain  and  mist  give  way  so  that  our  view  is 


RETURNING    FROM  LAPLAND.  125 

clear.  Upon  the  left  shore  is  a  monument,  erected  to 
celebrate  the  comintj:  of  Kino;'  Oscar  here  some  few 
years  ao;'o.  Soon  we  see  some  green  grass  between 
the  rocky  vista;  then  some  rocky  headlands,  decked 
with  the  even-laid  piles  of  codfish;  then  the  red  houses, 
thatched  with  living  green;  then  some  fish  ware- 
houses; but  where  and  how  do  we  get  there  ?  It  is 
a  narrow  path  but  two  hundred  feet  wide,  but  we  do 
go  into  it !  Bottom  and  shore  all  rock,  and  no  danger 
of  snag  or  sand.  The  captain  seems  confident,  for 
we  hear  his  bugle  blowing  a  tune  to  arouse  the 
echoes  and  attract  the  village. 

Behold !  a  thousand  o;ulls !  The  shore  is  white 
and  the  water  alive  with  them.  This  is  one  of 
the  fugle-vaer,  or  bird  islands;  for  every  sort  of  a 
bird  that  goes  a-fishing,  is  here  in  garrulous  and 
winged,  beak  and  mandible  activity.  There  are  a 
score  of  boats  rowing  about  and  even  upon  the 
"  rapids."  They,  like  the  gulls,  are  looking  for  fish 
in  the  swift  currents.  They  are  not  on  a  whirl,  like 
the  mysterious  maelstrom  of  our  early  geographies, 
but,  like  Hell  Gate,  are  furious  with  a  wild,  rocky, 
tidal  current.  This  we  stem,  and  are  soon  at  rest  on 
the  bosom  of  a  beautiful  bay. 

In  the  afternoon,  after  winding  in  and  around 
the  isles,  in  mazy  labyrinths  which  no  one  but 
the  local  pilots  can  thread,  we  find  ourselves,  al- 
thouQfh  still  in  our  floatino-  hotel,  within  the  walls  of 
a  bay  so  sequestered  that  one  might  iniagine  it  some 
vast  edifice,  with  the  blue  sky  for  its  arched  roofing. 
It  is  the  town  of  Scroven.  My  wife  and  I  go  ashore. 
We  visit  one  of  the  rocky  eminences,  after  passing 
among  the  population  in  their  Sunday  attire,  who 
are  out  to  welcome  us.  The  unfailing  courtesy  is 
here;  and  a  tall,  blue-eyed  Scandinavian  salutes  us 


126  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

in  good  English.  He  is  from  Chicago — one  of  sixty 
thousand  Scandinavians  in  that  city.  We  find  that 
he  has  been  at  work  for  my  wife's  relatives  in  a  grain 
elevator. 

"  Why  are  you  here  ?  "  we  ask.  "  Are  you  tired 
of  America  ?  " 

"  Oh!  nay,  nay!  I  am  one  of  nine  sons;  all  mar- 
ried off  but  myself.  I  promised  my  mother,  if  she 
was  ill  I  would  come  to  her.  I  love  her,  and  so  a 
year  ago  I  came  here  and  await  her  entire  recovery. 
In  the  next  fall  I  go  to  Chicago  and  take  forty  others, 
some  girls,  too,"  he  added  with  a  rosy  laugh. 

By  this  time  there  were  one  hundred  and  fifty 
people  gathered.  I  asked  the  Chicagoan,  if  he  were 
naturalized. 

"  Nay,  only  half." 

"  Declared  your  intention  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  intend  to  fulfil  it." 

I  then  told  him,  jocularly,  that  I  intended  to  swear 
them  all  in,  as  it  was  about  the  Fourth  of  July;  and 
so  I  raised  my  hand  and  rattled  off  the  declaration 
of  intention,  quite  familiar  to  me  in  "  childhood's 
happy  hours;"  and  he  translated  it,  telling  them, 
with  an  archness  quite  amusing,  that  they  were 
now  Americans !  It  was  Sunday,  and,  of  course, 
the  oath  was  on  a  dies  non  and  void.  But  the 
shout  of  fun  that  went  up,  indicated  that  the  sud- 
denness of  their  transformation  and  new  national 
birth  had  touched  their  risibilities. 

We  were  then  invited  to  the  house  of  three  hos- 
pitable and  leading  citizens — millionaires  and  brothers 
— whose  sister  kept  house  for  them.  They  looked 
very  unlike  descendants  of  the  fierce  sea  robbers 
of  the  Viking  days.  Our  captain  was  there,  and 
having  tasted  their  sherry  and  cake  and  their  new 


RETURNIN'G    FROM  LAPLAND.  127 

conserve,  and  admired  tlieir  old  silver,  two  hun- 
dred years,  as  an  heirloom  (one  of  the  Norse  weak- 
nesses), we  spent  an  hour  in  easy  conversation,  the 
captain  and  Rene  being  interpreters. 

"  How,"  asked  my  wife  of  the  good  sister,  "  do 
you  stand  the  long  winter  nights  here  ?  " 

She  was  amazed  at  the  question,  and  put  one  of 
her  own  to  us:  "  How  could  we  stand  alternate  short 
days  and  nights  ?  "  She  had  tried  them  once  down 
South  in  Christiania,  and  got  very  homesick,  "  Oh, 
it  is  our  habits,"  she  said,  "and  we  cannot  rid  our- 
selves of  them.  We  cannot  live  except  here.  Your 
nights  come  too  quick  and  are  so  very  short." 

The  next  morning  we  were  on  deck  early.  The 
sailors  were  raising  all  their  flags.  I  was  informed 
that  it  way  the  birthday  of  their  king,  Oscar  II.  I 
informed  them  it  was  our  national  birthday.  At 
breakfast  all  congratulated  us  three  Americans. 
About  ten  in  the  morning,  nearly  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  above  the  Circle,  we  passed  another 
boat  of  this  line.  Some  one  upon  it  cried  out: 
"  Hurrah  for  the  Fourth  of  July !  "  I  gave  the  best 
response  I  could,  indicating  a  preference  for  the  Star 
Spangled  Banner !  At  dinner  I  opened  the  toast  to 
the  king's  birthday  on  behalf  of  fifty  millions  of  other 
sovereigns  whose  ancestors  had  the  same  natal  day. 
Before  we  know  it,  our  dinner  resolves  itself  into  a 
celebration.  Havino-  commenced  rhetoricatincj  on 
the  Fourth  for  Sunday-schools  in  Ohio,  when  ten 
years  of  age,  it  would  have  been  an  irremediable 
omission,  not  to  have  embraced  the  opportunity  now 
presented  by  the  junction  of  Oscar  and  America;  and 
especially  within  the  Arctic  Circle  and  in  a  land  so 
full  of  the  memories  of  our  discoverers  and  the  mon- 
uments  of  independence  and  freedom.     But  as  we 


7  28  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

had  a  dozen  Britons  aboard  and  but  three  Ameri- 
cans, it  required  some  nerve  to  address  the  assem- 
blage. However,  remembering  the  picture  in  In- 
dependence Hall,  which  Dr.  Franklin  declared  he 
could  not  tell  whether  it  were  sunrise  or  sunset, 
until  the  Constitution  was  adopted,  when  he  knew 
it  was  sunrise,  and  making  the  reflection  incident 
to  this  memory  and  to  this  land  of  the  unsetting 
sun,  I  dwelt  upon  the  composite  character  of  our 
country, — made  up  of  all  nations,  with  various  lan- 
guages and  institutions,  but  discovered  first  by  Nor- 
wegians. We  in  return  had  discovered  Norway,  and 
so  on,  until  the  gallant  captain  arose  to  compliment 
America,  which  he  had  visited.  Then  we  drew  out 
the  good  rector,  who  spoke  lovingly  of  concord  be- 
tween nations.  Then  the  "  Army  and  Navy,"  to 
which  Dr.  Sanderson,  formerly  surgeon  of  the  Brit- 
ish navy,  responded,  making  a  splendid  tribute  to 
the  hospital  service,  which  he  witnessed  in  America 
during  the  war.  Then  the  clergyman  of  St.  Paul's, 
whom  I  called  out  by  the  remark  that  although  St. 
Paul  was  wrecked  we  had  a  better  and  safer  captain. 
Having  a  " Fellow"  from  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
who  had  won  his  honors  by  his  classic  and  linguistic 
attainments,  we  called  on  him  for  a  speech.  But,  like 
all  good  scholars,  he  was  too  modest  for  a  speech, 
and  excused  himself  by  using  a  word  which  was 
"  polyglotical  and  hearty" — he  said  "Thanks!"  and 
sat  down !  Then  an  eloquent  Glasgow  gentleman 
spoke  of  America  till  my  cheeks  were  tinged  with  pride 
and  exultation.  "  It  is  not  your  Niagaras  and  Mis- 
sissippis,  your  coal  fields  or  bonanzas,  that  make 
America!  These  God  made.  You  made  upon 
them  and  by  them  a  great  people;  and  I  rejoice 
that  you  are  separate  and  independent  States;  and 


RETURNING    FROM   LAPLAND.  1 29 

that  you  are  the  blossoms  of  the  strength  we  our- 
selves rejoice  in !  " 

A  Scotchman  who  rolled  his  r's  when  he  said 
"  Robert  Burns,"  as  if  the  thistles  grew  on  his  tongue, 
gave  a  happy  rejoinder  to  a  toast  to  Scotia.  The 
English  then  sano-  "  God  save  the  Oueen,"  to  which 
we  Americans  added  our  voices.  An  American  lady 
from  Boston  responded  gracefully  to  the  usual  toast, 
and  with  many  hurrahs,  we  made  the  Fourth  ever 
memorable  upon  these  wonderful  waters  of  this  early 
home  of  human  freedom. 

The  Norwegians,  who,  except  the  captain,  were 
only  observers  of  our  celebration,  seemed  to  be 
greatly  interested.  Why  should  they  not  ?  Are 
not  their  children  rushinQf  to  our  shores  ?  Besides, 
is  not  their  political  experience  parallel  with  ours  ? 
Did  not  their  ancestors  carry  the  fucros  to  Spain 
and  the  Magna  Charta  to  England  ?  Are  they  not 
now  in  very  deed  (except  a  little  clause  of  the  Con- 
stitution of  1 8 14,  which  unites  them  with  Sweden 
under  one  King)  declared  to  be  free  and  indepen- 
dent? Have  I  not  myself  heard  within  a  month 
open  declarations  of  republicanism  in  the  Storthing, 
a  truly  representative  body,  without  a  titular  or  in- 
herited legislator  in  the  realm  ?  Has  not  the  body 
already  signified  its  repugnance  to  the  form  of  mon- 
archy and  the  craft  of  kings  ?  Did  it  not  refuse 
to  grant  the  largess  demanded  for  the  King,  and 
his  son  for  his  bridal  ?  Why  should  Norway  be 
ruled  by  a  distant  King?  She  accepted  Bernadotte, 
and  has  continued  his  family  under  the  compulsion 
of  holy  and  unholy  alliances.  Her  wants  are  few. 
Her  people  are  simple.  Her  land  can  give  but 
twelve  hundred  of  its  square  miles  to  grain,  four- 
fifths  of  it  is  forest,  and  the  rest  is  given  to  fish  piles 


130  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

and  warehouses,  to  timber  and  duck,  and  she  cannot 
afford  to  assist  in  dressing  up  princes  to  gratify  other 
dynasties.  The  examples  of  France,  Switzerland, 
and  America  are  constantly  cited  here ;  and  I  should 
not  wonder  if  Norway  were  soon  an  independent 
republic. 

We  see  no  beggary,  poorhouses  or  jails;  we  hear 
of  no  crime  or  violence.  No  locks  are  needed  upon 
doors.  Drunkenness  is  rare.  The  people  are  honest. 
They  love  music  and  flowers,  and  are  devoted  to 
their  faith  and  their  families.  They  are  never  idle. 
Even  the  girls  are  knitting,  while  attending  sheep 
and  cows.  If  they  have  no  other  riches  than  such  as 
the  sea  and  fjords  give,  they  are  at  home  upon  the 
watery  element,  and  master  a  boat  as  a  centaur  does 
a  horse,  being  a  part  thereof.  Living  in  Norway  is 
cheap,  and  there  is  no  one  who  suffers.  The  Nor- 
wegian stock  is  in  splendid  condition,  and  any  grafts 
from  it  upon  our  national  tree  will  show  fruit  worthy 
of  the  best  energy  and  honesty  of  the  hardy  Norse- 
man of  history.  Above  all,  there  is  not  a  public 
scandal  here  extant,  to  the  honor  and  credit  of  this 
people. 

I  have  said  that  they  were  uniformly  polite. 
They  are  more  than  polite.  They  are  sincerely  hu- 
mane and  kind.  They  are  a  serious  people,  with 
but  few  gleams  of  humor.  I  looked  for  the  expres- 
sion of  it  in  the  funny  journals,  but  found  little. 
There  is  at  Lordagen  a  paper  called  the  Kaspar,  a 
sort  of  small  Punch.  It  is  not  very  refined,  but  quite 
fu41  of  hints,  rather  seriously  jocund.  At  Trondhjem 
there  is  an  amusing  journal  called  the  Pici'riot.  It 
assumes  a  higher  role,  and  takes  off  the  superfluities 
of  social  and  political  life  with  a  big  clownish  grin. 
Still  there  is  not  much  fun  in  Nor\va}s  though  music 


RETURNING    FROM   LAPLAND.  131 

everywhere  is  a  delight.  It  is  said,  tliat  under  the 
influence  of  the  dance  and  brandy,  the  peasants  arc 
not  lao-gard  in  wit;  and  their  talk  is  full  of  sharp  and 
comical  expressions.  Of  this,  we  had  no  chance  to 
judye.  We  saw  some  wild  festivities  goin;^''  on,  upon 
the  shore  among-  the  fishermen;  but  did  not  go  to  the 
soctcrs  or  mountain  farms,  where  freedom  holds  her 
revelry  in  summer.  The  people,  however,  have 
health,  and  health  creates  fine  and  equable  dis- 
positions. If  they  have  not  much  sunshine  the  year 
round,  they  have  the  cheerfulness  of  wisdom  and 
rectitude. 

After  many  social  hours  upon  deck  and  cabin, 
closing  with  "  Auld  Lang  Syne,"  sung  with  unction 
bv  our  Scotch  friends,  but  under  gloomier  skies  than 
when  we  went  north,  our  pleasant  and  genial  com- 
pany were  forced  to  separate,  when  we  returned  to 
Trondhjem. 

We  had  been  out  of  the  range  of  English,  Amer- 
ican, German,  or  even  Norwegian  news,  for  sixteen 
days.  Wliat  has  happened  in  the  active  world  mean- 
while ?  What  at  home  ?  Are  the  political  compli- 
cations ended,  or  reconciled,  or  what  ?  What  of  dear 
friends  ?  Musing  thus,  we  saunter  around  the  city. 
It  is  after  1 1  p.  m.  We  meet  gentle  ladies  carrying 
parasols.  The  sun  has  just  gone  down,  but  its  crim- 
son and  gold  decorate  the  northern  sky  with  its  re- 
lict radiance,  which  burns  in  flame  against  the  win- 
dows of  the  houses.  Still  sauntering,  we  revisit  the 
glimpses  of  St.  Olafs  Cathedral.  Its  eight  hundred 
years  of  existence  has  no  moon  to  silver  its  Melrosian 
elegance  into  magic  lights  and  shades,  and  no  eter- 
nal stars  looking  down  from  their  vaulted  pinnacles. 
But  the  blazinof  clouds  color  its  angles  and  irradiate 
Its    antique    windows.     The    forms    in    its    niches  — 


132  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

broken  and  disfio^ured — of  saint  and  Saviour — are 
made  hideous  in  dieir  fragmentary  ugliness  by  the 
unusual  light.  We  pass  into  the  graveyard,  where 
the  odor  of  a  thousand  bouquets,  recently  laid  upon 
the  graves,  gratifies  another  sense,  and  bespeaks  of 
a  loving  tenderness  for  the  departed  worthy  of  all 
praise  and  emulation.  Are  these  gentle  ministra- 
tions evidence  of  a  descent  from  sea  robbers  ?  Most 
surely  not,  if  the  features,  vocabulary,  and  manners 
of  a  people  are  indices  of  character;  for  never  lived 
upon  our  footstool  a  more  simple-hearted  and  honest 
folk  than  these  fair-haired  descendants  of  the  Vikinors. 
A  Trondhjem  paper  is  purchased.  I  find  in  the 
corner  of  the  paper  a  telegram  from  Washing- 
ton. It  startles  me.  It  indicates  to  my  poor  trans- 
lation that  President  Garfield  has  been  shot,  and  that 
it  is  not  expected  that  he  will  survive.  That  is  all 
we  can  learn,  and  the  anxiety  becomes  a  torture,  so 
much  depends  upon  its  truth.  The  next  day,  we 
have  this  unpronounceable  account,  which  is  still 
more  perplexing:  '*  IVasJiington:  MiddagslniUctin:  In- 
gcii  Brcekning,  itaturlig  Sovn.  Tilstanden  vedva- 
rcndc  forhaabjiijigsfidd."  Some  travelers  from  the 
south  have  heard  the  rumors;  but  we  are  compelled 
to  leave  Trondhjem  without  satisfaction  as  to  the 
terrible  news.  In  this  uncertain  frame  of  mind  we 
reach  the  little  town  of  Tonsaet,  a  country  village  in 
central  Norway.  It  has  a  Sabbath  stillness,  and 
gives  us  rest.  The  streams  between  Trondhjem 
and  this  place  are  torrents,  swift,  strong,  and  beau- 
tiful. They  leap  out  of  the  mountain  sides,  and  with 
a  roaring  sound  seek  the  valley.  The  aspect -of  the 
country,  with  here  and  there  a  dreary  moorland  and 
peat  as  its  product,  is  quite  Alpine;  and  in  the  culti- 
vation of  the  valleys,  fields,  and  hillsides  great  in- 


RETURNING    FROM   LAPLAND. 


^IZ 


tlustry  and  patience  arc  displayed.  Tonsaet  is  a 
good  place  for  fishing-.  It  has  a  splendid  mountain, 
now  in  clouds,  which  bears  the  name  of  "  Throne," 
and  the  town,  being  itself  some  two  thousand  feet 
above  sea  level,  is  cool  and  comfortable.  We  pre- 
pare for  fishing  and  fish,  have  our  rest  from  the 
northern  journey  and  write  our  letters.  To-morrow 
we  move  toward  Christiania,  where  the  papers  may 
resolve  our  fears  into  hope,  as  to  the  condition  of  the 
President,  and  of  our  Government  under  the  new 
strain  placed  upon  it. 


CHAPTER    X. 

SKELETONS  OF  VESSELS  A  THOUSAND  YEARS  OLD. 

"  Where  the  carcases  of  many  a  tall  ship  lie  buried,  as  they  say, 
if  niy  gossip  report,  be  an  honest  -woman  of  her  word." — Mer- 
chant OF  Venice. 

PREHISTORIC  human  skeletons  have  been  dug 
up,  along  with  the  bones  of  the  mastodon,  meg- 
alonyx  and  other  extinct  animals,  in  our  American 
valleys.  They  have  slept  together  a  hundred  thou- 
sand years.  Bits  of  pottery  and  fragments  of  the  hu- 
man pelvis,  have  been  found  entombed  along  with 
the  ancient  elephant.  The  interest  of  such  exhuma- 
tions has  not  been  more  intense  than  the  disinter- 
ment of  the  bones  of  old  ships  only  a  thousand  years 
old.  Indeed,  the  interest  which  belongs  to  the  art 
of  navigation,  is  that  of  the  poetry  and  mystery  of 
the  sea.  These  combine  its  majestic  expanse,  and 
resistless  force,  its  depth,  its  unity,  its  tracklessness,  its 
stilly  murmur,  its  cliffs  and  rocks,  its  bays  and  fjords, 
its  chemical  qualities,  its  monstrous  forms,  its  riches 
ancT  rocks,  its  tributes  and  disasters,  its  requiem  and 
graves,  its  waves  of  mighty  minstrelsy  and  its  mur- 
mur and  mirror  of  placid  beauty.  Poetry  and  prose 
have  struggled  with  each  other  to  wreak  their 
thoughts  upon  the  expression  of  the  blessings, 
wrath,  peril  and  sublimity  of  the  sea.  If  he  were 
a    hero,    who    first   essayed    its    wastes   toward    our 


SKELETONS    OF    VESSELS. 


135 


hemisphere,  then  tlie  Northmen  were  a  race  of  he- 
roes. Before  Flavio  Gioia  gave  the  magnetic  nee- 
dle to  the  maritime  world;  when  the  Antilia  of  the 
Sea  of  Darkness  was  no  fable,  and  the  flaming 
bounds  a  fiery  forbidding  ordeal,  the  Northmen 
had  dared  all,  to  discover  out  continent.  Whether 
stopping  half  way  at  Iceland,  or  going  still  further 
to  Greenland,  or  still  further  to  Mount  Hope  Bay, 
Rhode  Island,  and  even  to  Long  Island;  and  whether 
they  be  called  sea-rovers,  vikings,  or  "  pyrates," 
whether  named  Noddo,  Flokko,  Ingolf,  or  Eric  the 
Red,  Lief,  Bjarni,  Thorvald  Thorstein,  or  Karlsefne, 
it  is  asserted  by  tradition  and  record,  in  the  songs 
of  Scalds,  and  the  stories  of  Sagamen,  that  the 
Northmen  were  first  to  brave  the  western  main. 
They  were  the  forerunners  of  supposed  Arab  and 
Welsh  adventurers,  as  well  as  of  Columbus  himself. 
Not  only  is  this  fact  a  grand  incentive  to  a  study  of 
the  lives  of  the  bold  navigators  of  the  north,  but  to  a 
study  of  their  ships  and  the  modes  of  sailing. 

Steering  by  sun  and  star,  and  with  a  reckless 
reckoning,  to  which  no  science  gave  its  light  or  com- 
pass, copying  the  nautilus  and  creeping  over  vague 
leagues,  with  courage  and  caution,  they  still  dared  to 
go  on  and  on — till  the  new  world  limited  their  pur- 
suit and  revealed  their  goal! 

Discarding  the  runic  stones,  the  round  towers, 
the  poetry  of  the  mediaeval  time,  and  other  stories 
of  sea  adventure  to  our  continent,  and  without  con- 
structing new  maps  of  supposititious  isles,  it  is  enough 
just  now  to  recall  the  fact,  that  an  ancient  ship  of 
Norse  build,  was  discovered  on  Nawset  Beach,  Cape 
Cod,  in  1863.  This  fact  was  prompting  enough,  for 
a  second  visit  to  the  old  ships  and  the  events  of 
this  chapter  on  our  return  to  Christiania.     Besides, 


136  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

being  a  representative  of  a  ship-building  constitu- 
ency, it  became  a  sort  of  duty  to  look  into  these  an- 
cient modes  of  ship  building;  and  make  report  to  the 
caulkers  and  wrights  who  command  my  time  by  giv- 
inof  their  confidence. 

There  are  three  of  these  old  ships  which  have 
survived  the  rot,  dust  and  wreck  of  time.  One  was 
dug  up  in  Denmark;  this  I  have  not  seen.  There 
are  two  here,  preserved  in  wooden  sheds  within  the 
University  grounds,  back  of  the  Museum.  I  have 
seen  and  examined  both  of  them.  They  require  a 
separate  description,  as  they  had  different  objects, 
and  their  burial  must  have  been  under  different  cir- 
cumstances. The -smaller  ship  was  both  a  tomb  and 
a  vessel;  the  larger  one  may  have  been  wrecked  or 
buried  with  its  living  freight  upon  it.  Both  belong 
to  the  last  years  or  age  of  paganism  in  this  North- 
land. It  is  called  the  Younger  Iron  Age,  or  the 
Viking  Period,  and  runs  from  a.  d.  700  to  about 
A.  D.  1000.  From  five  to  eight  hundred  years  before 
Columbus  is  said  to  have  discovered  America  these 
vessels  wooed  the  breezes  of  the  fjords  of  Norway, 
and  gathering  experience,  ventured  into  unknown 
seas.  Nine  centuries  before  San  Domingo  loomed 
up  before  the  eye  of  the  Genoese,  Iceland  appeared, 
and  became  a  refuge  from  the  oppressions  of  the 
Norwegian  rulers.  Civilization,  whether  from  Egypt, 
Rome,  or  Greece,  from  Goth,  Frank,  Celt,  or  Saxon, 
has  had — if  it  be  not  a  solecism  to  say  it, — the  unseen 
ever  in  its  eye.  An  Irishman  contests  with  a  Dane  the 
discovery  of  Iceland.  The  latter,  Gardar,  claims  to 
have  discovered  it  in  a.  d.  860.  We  know  that  In- 
golf,  a  Norseman,  colonized  it  in  874.  The  year 
1000  saw  the  cross  lifted  in  radiant  beauty  above 
its  snows  and  volcanoes.     And  upon  this  island,  pro- 


SKELETONS    OF    VESSELS. 


137 


diofioiis  of  fire  and  ice,  of  frozen  Heclas  and  Ijoilino- 
Geysers,  where  poetry  and  learning  had  their  electric 
genius,  like  its  own  long  night  of  auroras — ujjon  this 
island  hung  the  destiny  of  our  New  World.  It  hung 
upon  these  hardy  rovers  of  the  sea  in  their  little 
vessels  of  oak  and  iron.  The  printed  volumes  of 
Historical  Societies  amply  demonstrate  these  facts. 

Nor  is  this  so  wonderful.  Did  not  Columbus 
himself,  before  he  sailed  west,  in  1477,  consult  the 
log-books  and  charts  of  the  Northmen  at  Iceland  ? 
Is  it  not  proven  that  he  sailed  in  an  English  ship 
(I  think  from  Bristol,  for  I  have  no  library  handy) 
to  that  island,  where  he  received  many  a  hint,  if 
not  demonstration,  that  there  was  a  Cathay  beyond 
the  setting  sun,  which  he  determined  to  find  ? 

These  are  matters  of  authentic  history.  They  are 
not  marvellous  when  we  know  that  these  same 
Norsemen,  light-haired  and  energetic,  familiar  and 
patient  with'  long  days  and  long  nights,  and  as  much 
at  home  on  water  as  on  land,  sailed  from  the  Straits 
of  Gibraltar  to  the  eastern  end  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  conquered,  as  Vikings,  Goths,  Vandals,  Norse- 
men, or  under  various  names,  other  lands  than  their 
own,  from  Northern  Africa  to  Northern  Scotland  and 
Ireland.  We  know  that  they  made  William  of  Nor- 
mandy a  figure  in  history,  and  he  made  England  a 
large  factor  in  human  progress.  Wherever  they 
went  they  carried  that  freedom  which  comes  of  the 
seafaring  life,  and  while  they  ruled,  they  civilized  in 
their  rude  way,  or  were  civilized  by  contact  with 
other,  if  not  superior,  peoples. 

In  gazing  at  these  boats  in  which  they  voyaged, 
one  miorht  well  indulofe  in  fancies.  We  know  that 
they  tasted  the  honey-dew  on  the  grass  of  Nan- 
tucket, and  ate  their  fish-balls  in  Boston  bay  and  on 


138  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Plymoutli  shore.  What  would  Massachusetts  have 
been  had  the  Norsemen  remained  ?  Where  would 
have  been  the  delights  of  Coney  Island,  past  which 
they  sailed  ?  Suppose  they  had  preceded  Hudson, 
and  had  sailed  up  the  river  which  bears  his  name, 
would  they  not  have  staid  till  now,  owing  to  the  at- 
tractions of  the  island  of  Manhattan  and  the  scenery 
of  the  river?  A  thousand  anachronisms  flicker  in  the 
imagination.  But,  in  truth,  one  cannot  gaze  at  these 
vehicles  of  adventure,  even  in  their  ruin,  without 
picturing  the  "  might-have-beens "  of  early  ages. 
Neither  can  one  sail  amidst  these  isles  of  Denmark 
and  Norway  without  feeling  that  it  is  an  excellent 
school  for  the  nurture  of  seamanship.  I  have  been 
from  Copenhagen  to  the  Arctic  Ocean,  have  seen, 
under  a  sun  that  never  went  below  the  horizon,  the 
mountainous  rocks  which  shut  and  open  as  the 
granite  gates  of  this  Northland,  and  the.  idea  has  con- 
stantly recurred,  "  What  a  nursery  for  the  sea-farer 
are  these  rough  fjords,  with  their  ceaseless  fishing 
and  hardy  adventure  !  " 

Wherever  in  the  three  thousand  miles  we  have 
voyaged  along  these  waters,  we  have  seen  a  variety 
of  craft.  Some  have  the  awkwardness  of  Chinese 
junks,  shallow  and  not  good  for  beating  to  windward. 
They  are  called  "  snekken,"  from  the  snail.  Neither 
are  they  picturesque.  The  word  yacht,  is  of  Norse 
origin.  The  jcegts,  so  called,  bear  a  similitude  to  the 
long-oared  and  graceful  galley,  and  its  likeness, — the 
old  Norse  war-ship.  The  broad-beamed  and  square- 
rigged  herring  smacks  are  not  of  the  yacht  class, 
whose  skeletons  we  are  to  visit,  and  whose  models 
we  have  seen  in  these  seas.  For  hundreds  of  years 
the  Norse  ship  has  had  its  graceful  prow  and  stern, 
and  a  keel  that  cuts  the  water  with  facile  play. 


SKELETONS    OE    VESSELS.  139 

Ship-building  has  doubtless  had  its  vicissitudes. 
The  models  of  one  age  are  unlike  those  of  another 
age.  Our  clipper  of  thirty  years  ago — our  wooden 
ship  which  was  the  admiration  of  the  world — may 
have  given  way  somewhat  to  other  shapes  of  beauty, 
if  not  of  utility;  but  whether  in  iron  or  wood,  there  is 
one  model  unchangeably,  exquisitely  beautiful  and 
useful.  It  is  that  of  the  Norse  ship  whose  skeleton 
is  before  me.  Winds  may  blow  and  seas  may  rage, 
and  vessels  may  be  whelmed  upon  every  coast,  but 
the  model  which  sits  "  like  a  swan's  neck  among  the 
bushes,"  has  a  curve  of  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  or- 
dinary art.  This  is  the  vessel  whose  prow  we  have 
seen  from  Cape  Nord  to  Trondhjem,  upon  every 
fjord  and  at  every  angle — the  same  dainty,  divine 
shell  upon  the  flood. 

If  it  be  said,  that  I  am  not  competent  to  judge, 
not  being  experienced  about  vessels,  except  as  a 
life-saving  legislator, — well,  that  may  be.  Still  that 
is  somethincr— for  did  we  not  rescue  that  service 
from  the  clutch  of  the  navy,  in  the  name  of  expe- 
rience, to  give  it  to  the  fishermen  and  surfmen  of  our 
own  coast,  who  know  how  and  where  to  make  the  keel 
of  the  life-boat  safely  sever  the  fierce  boiling  surf? 
But  if  it  be  a  matter  of  aesthetics;  is  not  the  Norwe- 
gian model,  with  its  thousand  years  of  approval,  by 
the  builders  of  ships,  the  veritable  line  of  beauty  ?  If 
it  be  a  quaint  boat,  still  here  it  is  as  common  in  the 
waters  of  this  long  archipelago,  as  the  skiff  is  upon 
our  own  western  waters  or  the  yawl  on  the  "  Soifnd." 
Norwegians  have  not  changed  their  models  of  boats. 
The  prow  still  stands  high  in  the  air,  and  the  stern 
lower;  and  the  broad  beam  spreads  till  the  sides  are 
almost  level  with  the  water.  Perhaps  the  original 
pattern  of  this  boat  may  be  the  graceful  sledge  of 


140  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  Laplander.  Indeed  all  conveyances  here  have 
this  grace  and  beauty  of  contour.  The  cariole  is  a 
little  one-horse  wagon,  made  after  the  similitude  of 
the  classic  shell.  Perhaps  these  designs  originated 
with  that  old  mother  of  invention, — necessity;  for  boat 
and  sledge,  snow-shoe  and  cariole  seem  fitted  for  a 
land  and  water  of  ice  and  snow.  The  logs  of  these 
ancient  vessels  may  seem  rough  hewn;  but  there  is 
a  divinity  which  has  shaped  them;  first,  to  make  them 
seaworthy, — worthy  to  mate  these  rough  northern 
seas,  because  strong, — and  next,  beautiful,  because 
they  have  the  lines  that  curve,  while  they  strengthen. 
It  is  Venus  from  the  foam,  reposing  on  the  arm  of 
Hercules.  In  his  "  Harbors  of  Eno^land,"  Ruskin  has 
had  his  artistic  eye  upon  these  craft.  He  glorifies  them, 
or  those  like  unto  them,  as  having  in  their  bent 
plank,  a  rude  simplicity,  which  is  the  soul  of  ship- 
ping; for  does  it  not  breast  its  way  through  the  death 
that  is  in  the  deep  sea?  In  his  extravagant  way  he 
tells  us,  "  that  he  knows  of  nothing  else  that  man  does 
which  is  perfect  but  that.  All  his  other  doings  have 
some  siorn  of  weakness,  affectation,  or  io^norance  in 
them.  They  are  overfinished  or  underfinished;  they 
do  not  quite  answer  their  end,  or  they  show  a  mean 
vanity  in  answering  it  too  well.  But  the  boat's  bow 
is  naively  perfect,  complete  without  an  effort.  The 
man  who  made  it  knew  not  that  he  was  making  any- 
thing beautiful  as  he  bent  its  planks  into  those  mys- 
terious, ever-changing  curves.  It  grows  under  his 
hand  into  the  image  of  a  sea-shell;  the  seal,  as  it 
were,  of  the  flowing  of  the  great  tides  and  streams 
of  ocean  stamped  on  its  delicate  rounding.  He 
leaves  it,  when  all  is  done,  without  a  boast.  It  is 
simple  work,  but  it  will  keep  out  water,  and  every 
plank    henceforth    is    a    Fate,    and    has    men's    lives 


SKELETONS    OF    VESSELS.  141 

wreathed  in  the  knots  of  it,  as  the  cloth-yard  sliaft 
had  their  deaths  in  its  pkimes." 

A  glance  at  the  photograph  of  one  of  these  boats, 
with  a  thousand  years  of  oxidation  and  decay  upon 
it,  would  tend  to  make  these  words  of  Ruskin  seem 
excessive.  His  description  fits  better  Southey's  ship 
of  heaven,  rigged  with  rainbows;  or  Spenser's  fairy 
boat,  which  without  sail  or  rudder  moves  at  your  own 
sweet  will,  whithersoever  you  list.  It  is  fabled  that 
this  Norse  vessel,  and  indeed  the  navy  of  Norseland, 
came  from  Odin.  It  was  made  by  dwarfs  under  the 
inspiration  of  the  god.  It  had  the  magic  of  the 
famous  tent  of  the  orient.  It  held  all  the  gods,  and 
could  be  folded  up  for  the  pocket.  It  lacked  the 
steam-engine,  and  therefore  Norway  is  third  only  in 
the  maritime  tonnage  of  the  world.  But  let  your 
mechanism  reorganize  the  debris,  fill  up  the  gaps  of 
centuries,  rig  anew  the  sail,  repaint  the  keel,  recarve 
the  prow,  refix  the  rudder  and  call  the  spirits  of  the 
vasty  deep,  to  refill  the  canvas,  and  the  enchantment 
of  the  elder  picture  will  return,  in  all  its  grace  and 
elegance.  I  have  seen  represented  in  one  of  Wag- 
ner's operas,  an  ancient  myth  of  the  north,  wherein  the 
hero  is  drawn  over  the  lake  by  a  swan.  The  will  of 
the  hero  is  the  rudder.  Without  drawino-  too  much 
upon  fancy  or  tradition,  and  sunuiioning  the  bare  facts, 
one  might  reproduce  upon  the  canvas,  a  Norse  ship, 
with  its  benches  for  rowers;  a  gilded  dragon  at  the 
prow,  its  large  square  sails  striped  with  red,  green 
and  blue;  the  overlapping  shields,  red  and  white  over 
the  taffrail,  and  the  soldiers  in  chain  armor,  or  scarlet 
tunics,  adding  their  dramatic  and  scenic  personality 
to  the  picture,  as  it  skims  trim  and  bird-like  over 
waters  lit  by  an  unsetting  sun !  Upon  the  decks 
of  such  a  vessel,  the  Norse  heroes  adventured  into 


142  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  unknown.  This  is  the  vessel  which  after  ten  cen- 
turies has  a  resurrection,  as  the  sarcophagus  of  its 
heroes. 

Poetry  aside,  let  us  come  down  to  the  picture  as 
it  is,  within  the  grounds  of  the  university.  The  first 
visit  we  make  is  to  the  smaller  vessel.  It  is  but 
forty-three  and  a  third  feet  long,  and  was  not  as  well 
equipped  for  war  as  the  larger  one.  It  was  buried 
with  its  skipper,  according  to  a  custom  referred  to  in 
the  accounts  of  the  first  Christian  king  here — Haakon 
the  Good.  Even  the  women  were  sometimes  in- 
terred in  this  way  under  tumuli  raised  over  their 
boats.  Rarely  have  these  evidences  of  the  old 
custom  been  found.  But  it  was  reserved  for  the 
parish  of  Tune,  in  the  province  or  amt  of  Smaale- 
nene,  near  Frederiksstad,  near  the  Swedish  border, 
and  not  far  from  the  mouth  of  the  Christiania  Fjord, 
to  furnish  this  specimen.  The  Antiquarian  Society 
took  charge  of  its  excavation,  and  it  has  been  out  in 
the  light  for  some  years.  The  clay  portion  of  its 
mound  best  preserved  the  timber  and  iron.  The 
pressure  of  earth  has  broken  some  of  the  ribs,  but 
the  larger  part  of  the  wood  remains.  It  is  enough 
to  infer  the  rest,  even  as  scientists  construct  the 
whole  animal  out  of  a  few  bones.  The  vessel  is 
clinker-built,  with  iron  nails,  and  almost  all  oak. 
Some  of  the  nails  and  ribs  are  of  fir.  It  is  thir- 
teen feet  wide  amidships.  From  keel  to  gunwale 
it  is  only  four  feet.  It  must  have  been  flat  and 
low,  and  in  this  it  closely  resembles  the  boats  we 
have  met  on  our  trip  to  the  North  Cape.  The 
boards  are  over  an  inch  thick,  and  number  some  ten 
or  eleven  on  each  side.  The  nails  have  round  heads 
outside  and  square  within,  and  hold  on  well.  The 
tarred  oakum,  or  caulking,  is  of  goats'  hair  or  sheep's 


SKELETONS    OF    VESSELS.  143 

wool,  and  hanqs  closely  to  the  loose  joints  of  the 
ship.  Where  the  hoards  are  joined,  they  are  cut  off 
obli(|uely  and  nailed.  The  gunwale  was  all  gone. 
The  ribs  were  thirteen  in  number,  and  are  built  of 
three  different  layers  of  wood,  one  above  the  other, 
and  nailed.  The  ribs  are  about  three  feet  apart,  and 
their  width  about  seven  inches.  They  were  lashed 
to  the  boards  by  ropes  made  of  willow — a  common 
kind  of  rope  which  we  have  seen  in  the  interior  of  this 
country,  upon  buckets  and  tubs.  On  the  inside  of  the 
boards,  at  every  rib,  clamps  are  carved  out  of  the  wood, 
two  holes  made  in  the  clamp,  and  in  the  lower  side  of 
the  rib  a  similar  one  for  the  rope.  Nails  also  are  used 
everywhere,  especially  to  secure  the  boards  to  the 
keel.  This  is  not  a  strong  mode  of  joining,  you  will 
say;  but  it  is  the  best  they  had,  and  it  gave  elasticity, 
if  not  strength.  There  were  ten  ribs  on  each  side. 
It  had  sails  as  well  as  oars.  The  mast  was  held  b)-  a 
very  heavy  beam  of  oak  across  five  of  the  beams  in 
the  bottom.  The  stump  of  the  mast  was  found 
standing  in  the  hole — a  square  hole  about  four  feet  b}' 
one,  which  was  made  large  to  help  lower  the  mast; 
and  plugs  were  used,  as  well  as  other  supports,  for 
the  mast,  not  so  apparent. 

This  skeleton  was  not  without  ornament,  and  per- 
haps paint,  though  as  it  now  appears  to  be  black- 
ened and  tarred,  I  could  not  tell.  There  are  mould- 
ings upon  the  boards.  A  rudder  was  found  lying" 
across  the  vessel.  It  was  of  fir,  four  feet  seven  inches 
long,  and  about  a  foot  wide.  It  was  fixed  by  a  rope 
to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  in  front  of  the  stern-post. 

The  body  of  the  captain  or  owner,  was  found 
just  behind  the  mast  beam.  The  bones  and  teeth 
of  two  horses  were  found,  and  some  colored  glass, 
and  cloth  which  might  have  been  part  of  a  saddle; 


144  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

also  a  snow- skate,  and  some  rust  from  iron  imple- 
ments. Among  the  ruins  were  found  the  handle 
of  a  sword  of  the  Viking  style,  a  spear-point,  and 
the  boss  of  a  shield,  and  what  is  surmised  to  be 
the  rusty  remains  of  a  coat  of  mail.  It  is  fur- 
ther conjectured  that  these  Vikings  kept  a  barrel  on 
board,  for  a  substantial  bung  was  found;  but  the  hole 
was  missing.  As  an  evidence  of  how  some  trifling 
things  may  be  preserved  when  more  important  things 
perish,  there  were  found  the  needles  of  juniper  bushes 
in  the  clay;  though  what  became  of  the  berries,  unless 
they  "  went  down  "  with  the  contents  of  the  barrel,  it 
is  not  stated.  Oaken  handspikes  and  spades  were 
found.  The  whole  seems  to  testify  that  these  rude 
accompaniments  of  a  soldier-seaman  were  interred 
with  him,  away  from  the  river,  out  of  which  the  ves- 
sel was  drawn.  A  mound  was  raised,  so  that  the 
ghost  of  the  deceased  might  come  out  of  his  vessel 
and  overlook  the  element  upon  which  he  had  sailed 
and  the  land  on  which  he  had  toiled.  The  body 
was  buried  with  the  clothes  on,  as  some  pieces  of 
cloth  and  beads  indicate.  These  surmises  are  more 
or  less  sanctioned  by  the  narratives  of  Norse  burials 
of  that  time  which  have  come  down  to  us.  It  is  said 
of  an  ancient  Norse  warrior,  Harald  Hiltetand,  who 
fell  in  a  famous  battle,  that  his  conqueror — follow- 
ing our  North  American  Indian  custom — ordered  the 
body  to  be  equipped  for  the  other  world  with  its  usual 
companions  of  this  world.  His  horse  was  killed,  and 
his  saddle  buried  with  the  horse  and  body,  so  that  he 
could  be  ready  to  mount  his  charger  and  speed  away 
to  the  blessed  halls  of  Valhalla. 

This  vessel,  however,  was  not  like  one  of  those 
which  breasted  the  Baltic,  Arctic,  and  Atlantic  or 
made  its  perilous  and  invading  voyages  to  America, 


SKELETONS    OF    VESSELS.  145 

P^rancc,  Constantinople  and  the  Cove  of  Cork.  It 
was  likely  a  coasting-  cruiser.  We  saw  its  copy  at 
Hammerfest,  manned  by  Lapp  fishermen.  We  see 
it  reproduced  in  the  caiques  of  the  Bosphorus. 

However,  its  discovery  and  exhumation  led  to 
much  discussion,  some  years  ago,  about  ship  building. 
This  was  quickened  into  excitement,  when  the  larger 
\essel  was  exhumed  a  few  years  later.  I  have  not 
the  plan  of  the  larger  vessel,  but  the  general  features 
of  both  are  the  same. 

If  I  could  reproduce  in  English  the  speeches  of 
the  good  Frau  Brandt,  who  has  charge  of  the  sheds 
where  these  vessels  repose  on  their  frames,  and  in  a 
good  translation  from  her  musical  Norse,  it  would  be 
more  satisfactory;  but  I  must  be  content  w^ith  some 
general  observations.  Along  with  her  little  lame 
daughter  of  ten,  limping  on  crutches,  and  making  her 
gestures  to  correspond  with  the  mother's  interesting 
recital,  Madame  Brandt  expanded  on  the  various 
qualities  of  the  larger  vessel.  It  is  conspicuous  for 
having  a  huge  log-cabin,  with  a  sloping  roof,  in  its 
centre.  Its  ankerstok  is  a  heavy  oak  log,  which  sur- 
vives the  iron  anchor  it  held.  It  had  three  little  joll}'- 
boats,  which  were  a  part  of  its  equipment,  showing 
that  it  meant  business  \vhen  it  went  to  war. 

In  fact,  it  had  evidendy  been  worsted  in  a  fight, 
for  the  centre  of  the  cabin  was  torn  out,  and  there  was 
no  evidence  of  fire.  It  is  seventy-three  feet  long  and 
seventeen  and  a  half  feet  wide,  and  in  the  same  pro- 
portion as  the  other  vessel.  The  rudder  was  on  one 
side,  and  both  sides  were  covered  with  lapped,  and  it 
is  thought,  painted  shields  to  the  number  of  one  hun- 
dred and  t\venty,  one  for  each  soldier  on  board.  Each 
shield  had  a  central  boss  of  iron.  The  shields  were 
like  scales  upon  a  colored  fish,  and  doubtless,  like  the 


146  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

costumes  of  the  country,  rejoiced  in  the  gayest  hues, 
yellow  and  red  predominant.  They  were  made  of  fir, 
and  their  circumference  was  held  by  an  iron  tire. 
They  were  covered  with  the  skins  of  animals.  A 
sledge  was  found  on  board,  also  two  respectable  bed- 
steads, many  instruments  and  utensils,  and  among 
them  a  big  copper  kettle,  willow  ropes,  strong  iron 
nails,  and  oaken  drikkckoppers  (drinking  cups),  along 
with  a  stout  long  plank  for  landing  safely,  with  ridges 
for  the  feet.  These  were  found  in  various  stages  of 
decay.  The  informing  genius  of  this  tenth-century 
boat,  a  skeleton  man,  with  gold  and  ornaments  about 
him,  was  discovered  in  the  boat,  with  the  bones  of 
twenty  dogs  and  some  horses.  Some  of  the  instru- 
ments and  parts  of  the  ship  were  not  devoid  of  dec- 
oration. The  rudders  of  the  small  boats  had  carved 
dragon  heads,  while  the  cross-pieces,  for  the  lifting 
of  the  boat  out  of  the  water — a  sort  of  dock — had 
horses'  heads  quaintly  carved. 

What  were  these  horses  doing  on  the  ship?  We 
can  account  for  the  doofs  and  sleigh,  but  the  horses! 
Perhaps  the  question  may  be  dimly  wrapped  up  in 
the  conundrum:  "  Why  is  the  crupper  of  Bucephalus 
like  a  ship's  anchor? "  "  Because  it's  at  the  end  of  the 
hawser."  Before  expiring  over  this  philosophical  so- 
lution, both  nautical  and  poetical,  let  me  propound 
another  question.  There  were  found  on  board  the 
bones  of  a  peacock,  which,  out  of  pure  vanity  at  the 
naked  disclosure,  at  once  dissolved  on  being  exhumed. 
Now  what  was  that  fowl  doing  on  board  this  Viking 
craft  ?  Why  was  that  particular  bird  buried  with  the 
Vikingf  soldier  and  seaman  ?  Let  our  connoisseurs 
in  antiquities,  or  our  aesthetic  philosophers  who 
spread  their  rhetoric  about  this  bird  of  Juno,  revel 
in  the  conundrum. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

MOUNTAINS  OF  NORWAY— PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  FOSSES— THE 
GLORIES  AND  DAMSELS  OF  RINGERIKE. 

"  The  traveller  otans  the  grateful  sense 

Of  sweetness  near;  he  knows  not  whence. 
And  pausing  takes  with  forehead  bare 
The  benediction  of  the  air." — Whittier. 

WHEN  leaving  Paris  we  consulted  an  expert  in 
travel  as  to  the  proper  route  to  take,  so  as  to 
see  and  do  Norway.  The  plan  given  was  this:  From 
Copenhagen  to  Christiania  by  steamer;  then  an  ex- 
cursion to  Ringerike  and  Honefoss:  by  steamer  to 
Bergen,  by  the  southern  fjords  to  Trondhjem,  via 
Molde  and  Stoeren,  and  from  Trondhjem  to  Ham- 
merfest,  via  Tromsoe.  Crossing  the  Arctic  Circle  the 
midnight  sun  will  then  become  visible.  Tromsoe  is 
the  old  capital  of  Lapland,  where  will  be  seen  Lapp 
encampments,  with  reindeer  herds.  From  Hammer- 
fest  back  to  Christiania,  and  from  thence  through 
Sweden  to  Stockholm,  and,  after  doing  the  excur- 
sions, take  the  steamer  to  Helsingfors,  and  from 
there  to  St.   Petersburg  by  rail. 

The  best  part  of  this  programme  we  carried  out. 
Omitting  the  steamer  ride  from  Christiania  to  Ber- 
gen, we  went  to  Trondhjem  by  rail  from  Christiania; 
and  while  we  filled  our  promise  to  go  to  the  nighdess 
Arctic  Circle  and  beyond  it,  to  see  in  full,  round  ra- 
diance the  sun  above  the   horizon,  we  supplied  the 


148  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

omission  of  the  grand  mountain  views  of  the  southern 
fjords  and  the  Molde  scenery,  by  an  abundance  of  such 
views  between  Trondhjem  and  Tromsoe.  This  we 
supplemented  on  our  return  to  Christiania  by  the 
tour  suo-CTcsted,  to  Rina-erike,  Honefoss,  Tinoset  and 
Kongsburg. 

The  traveller  familiar  with  Norway  will  wonder 
why  we  did  not  see  the  Dovrefjeld  and  the  Romsdal, 
and  various  unpronounceable  localities;  but  so  far  as 
the  distant  reader  may  be  interested,  we  have  seen 
characteristic  scenery,  if  not  always  of  the  highest 
type.  I  am  not  sure  but  that  the  excursion  we  made 
to  Honefoss  is  equal  to  anything  of  which  I  have 
heard  in  Norway.  This  was  the  cabinet  picture  of 
our  inland  trip.  We  were  led  to  it  by  the  persuasion 
of  our  consul,  Mr.  Gerard  Gaade,  who  extolled  it  to 
the  skies,  to  which  indeed  its  mountains  aspire. 

One  could  wish  that  we  had  an  American  consul 
like  Mr.  Gaade  at  every  considerable  place.  He  is  a 
Norwegian,  and,  although  his  office  does  not  pay  the 
rent,  he  is  always  ready  to  show  courteous  attention 
to  Americans.  His  wife  is  an  accomplished  lady  from 
Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  and  there  is  some  romance, 
from  Italy  to  Norway,  connected  with  their  "  happy 
lot."  We  were  invited  by  him  to  his  beautiful  home 
near  Christiania,  where,  upon  one  of  the  little  hills 
overlooking  the  fjord,  whose  waters  almost  reach  his 
grounds,  he  cultivates  his  paternal  acres,  indulges  his 
scholarly  tastes,  and  flies  the  star-spangled  banner. 
It  w^as  pleasant,  as  we  drew  nigh  to  his  gate,  to  see 
through  the  drooping  birches  which  adorn  his  hun- 
dred acres,  our  old  flag.  It  is  seen  so  seldom  abroad. 
His  house  is  a  long  range,  built  on  the  Virginia  plan. 
It  has  twenty  windows  in  front,  and  as  many  rooms 
in    connection  one  with   the   other.     It   is   only  two 


MOUNTAINS    OF  NORWAY.  140 

Stories  high.  There  are  out-houses,  stables,  carriage- 
houses,  and  kitchen,  extending  down  at  right  angles 
on  either  side,  forming  with  the  front  a  hollow  square. 

We  survey  the  landscape,  which  includes  Oscar 
Hall.  It  is  the  prince's  beautiful  residence.  This 
fairy-like  abode  of  royalty,  when  it  pleases  to  honor 
Norway  with  its  presence,  is  situated  upon  a  rocky 
height  of  eighty  feet.  It  is  in  two  parts.  These  adjoin 
a  castellated  hexagonal  tower,  from  which  we  have 
a  splendid  view  of  the  fjord  with  its  islands  and  its 
surroundinors.  The  front  of  the  buildinof  faces  the 
water,  and  has  a  balcony.  The  veranda  walls  and 
turrets  give  a  unique  view  to  this  pretty  royal  nest; 
but  if  you  would  know  what  a  treasure  it  is,  go  in  and 
see  the  medallions,  busts  and  paintings  which  it  con- 
tains. To  do  this,  put  on  the  felt  slipper  and  slide 
over  the  polished  floors.  Striking  scenes  from  the 
Saga  are  in  bas-relief;  but  the  charm  of  the  palace 
is  the  series  of  pictures  of  Bond  Lif,  or  Peasant  Life 
in  Norway,  by  Tidemand. 

Adolp  Tidemand,  was  a  native  of  Mandal,  in  Nor- 
way. He  began  to  study  his  art  at  Copenhagen  in 
1832.  He  then  went  to  Dusseldorf,  and  received  les- 
sons under  Hildebrand  and  Schadow.  Here  he  painted 
his  great  picture:  Gustavus  Adolphus  addressing  the 
Dalecarlian  peasantry  in  Mora  church.  His  fidelity 
to  nature  and  his  ready  genius,  led  him  higher  up 
the  steep  of  fame.  After  studying  at  Munich  and 
Rome,  he  returned  to  Norway  in  1843,  and  began 
the  production  of  those  pictures  of  the  peasantry,  which 
are  the  chief  attraction  of  Oscar  Hall  and  of  northern 
art.  The  interior  of  the  church  in  Thelemarken — 
which  we  shall  visit  on  this  trip, — furnished  the  scene 
for  his  painting  of  the  "  Catechism."  It  is  full  of  hu- 
mor.    Every  figure  is  a  stroke   of  art;   the  peasant 


150  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

lads,  dull  and  sharp, — the  quaint  schoolmaster  and 
the  anxious  mother,  are  worthy  of  the  pencil  of  Ho- 
garth, thrice  refined.  The  series  in  Oscar  Hall  rep- 
resent the  peasant  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave— the 
"  seven  ages  of  man."  Of  course  it  begins  with  the 
babe;  then  a  young  couple,  their  hair  unkempt  and 
flowing,  dance  the  national  springebo;  then  the  life 
on  the  mountain  sactar  or  farm;  then  marriage,  and, 
finally,  emigration !  Our  guide  when  we  were  there, 
was  an  elderly  lady,  who  has  a  boy  in  America.  I 
pointed  out  one  of  the  paintings  and  said,  "Amer- 
ica ?  "  She  drew  me  to  the  wall  and  pointed  out,  on 
the  trunk  of  the  young  Norseman,  bidding  farewell 
to  his  home  and  parents,  the  words:  "  New  York, 
1 852."  What  a  tide  has  swept  toward  our  land 
since  Tidemand  made  this  prophetic  picture  !  From 
Northern  Europe,  since  then,  a  quarter  of  a  mil- 
lion have  landed  upon  our  shores,  to  remain.  In 
this  year,  fifteen  thousand  of  these  Norsemen  have 
mingled  their  future  with  ours.  In  the  shipping 
quarters  of  Christiania,  everywhere  appear  the  signs 
of  lines  of  emigrant  ships.  Amerika !  Amerika !  with 
a  "  /('."  That  is  the  cry,  and  westward  the  Norseman 
turns  his  antique  prow. 

But  we  forget  that  we  are  in  the  consular  library, 
or,  rather,  a  balcony  out  of  the  library.  From  all 
around  comes  up  the  fragrance  of  the  new-mown  hay, 
the  odor  of  which  is  nationalized  and  enhanced  by  the 
sight  of  an  American  machine  doing  the  work !  As 
we  step  upon  the  balcony,  a  bevy  of  children  shout: 
"  Papa !  "  and  "  Uncle  !  "  and  greet  the  consul;  while 
the  big  dog,  held  in  leash  by  a  young  American  boy 
of  ten,  who  had  gallanted  me  to  the  Storthing  (Leg- 
islature) a  week  before,  adds  his  bark  to  the  greeting. 
It  was  a  rural  and  domestic  scene  not  to  be  foro^otten. 


MOUNTAINS    OF   NORWAY.  1 51 

after  our  rocky,  fishy,  nightless,  undomestic  journey 
to  the  Arctic  Ocean. 

We  descend  to  the  garden  and  lawn.  There  on  a 
cot  reposed  the  Httle  daughter  of  the  consul,  an  inva- 
lid of  many  months.  She  is  drinking  in  the  pure  air 
under  the  shade  of  a  great  oak-tree,  while  her  pen- 
sive eye  is  upon  an  open  book.  She  is  a  picture 
which  Millais  would  love  to  paint.  I  promised  her 
my  "  Sunbeams"  for  the  indoors  of  next  "  winter"  ; 
and  our  prayers  go  out  toward  her  and  upward  to 
heaven  that  these  sweet,  salubrious  summer  days 
may  prove  salutary. 

After  strolling  through  the  grounds  and  a  conver- 
sation with  Americans  abroad,  who  called — some 
from  India  and  some  from  home — and  after  a  bou- 
quet or  so  of  syringas  and  violets,  and  one  more  de- 
lighted glance  at  the  drooping  birches,  we  re-enter 
the  house,  where  Mr.  Gaade  talks  Norse  to  a  li\'ery 
man  in  the  city  through  a  telephone,  and,  before  I 
am  aware,  concludes  a  bargain  for  a  carriage  to  take 
us  over  our  projected  rhountain  journey. 

The  old  traveller  in  Norway  will  wonder  that  we 
do  not  go  by  cariole.  We  were  quite  willing  to 
forego  the  custom  on  account  of  the  inconvenience. 
"  When  we  see  a  cariole  now,"  said  a  Norwegian 
friend,  "  we  know  it  is  a  foreigner  who  drives;  for 
ive  do  not  go  in  them  any  more.  We  prefer  ease 
and  comfort  in  a  carriage." 

This  cariole  needs  an  explanation.  It  is  a  light  gig 
for  one  person  only.  As  Norway  is  deficient  in  nav- 
igable rivers  and  railways,  and  as  there  are  vast 
tracts  of  attractive  country  where  nothing  else  can 
be  used,  the  cariole  is  then  the  vehicle.  The  luggage 
is  strapped  behind  this  little  canoe  on  wheels,  and 
when  the  traveller  is  not  himself  the  driver,  there  is  a 


152  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

small  boy  or  girl,  behind,  who  pulls  the  ropes,  which 
generally  pass  for  lines. 

Ross  Browne  in  his  "  Land  of  Thor,"  makes  a 
graphic  picture  of  his  cariole  ride,  over  one  of  the 
fjelds.  His  pony  would  go  on  the  faster,  the  more 
he  was  restrained.  Had  he  not  a  girl  as  a  skyd,  or 
driver,  seated  or  standing  behind  on  the  vehicle  ? 
How  she  flourished  the  whip,  and  crying  out  "  Flue! 
Gaae!  Reise!  Fly!  Go!  Travel!  He  was  not  in  a  con- 
dition to  be  as  gallant  as  he  desired.  He  had  all  he 
could  do  to  hold  on.  But  even  then  and  there, 
amidst  the  sublime  fields  and  mountains,  in  her  sim- 
plicity, she  gave  him  to  know,  that  she  had  a  lover, 
and  was  about  to  be  married.  He  gave  her  joy,  as 
she  made  the  horse  and  cariole  fly  over  hill  and  dale. 
I  heard  of  a  festive  young  Englishman  who  tried  to 
kiss  one  of  these  rosy  skyds,  in  a  shady  spot.  She 
pulled  up  a  pine  and  pummelled  him.  There  is  a 
postal  service  connected  with  this  locomotion,  which 
is  as  irksome  to  the  farming  people  as  it  is  conven- 
ient to  the  traveller.  The  postal  remuneration  is 
small,  but  the  peasants  at  the  skydspligtigc,  or  post 
houses,  are  bound  to  furnish  fresh  ponies  when  re- 
quested. These  peasants  are  required  by  govern- 
ment to  keep  the  roads  in  repair.  At  intervals  of 
seven  or  fifteen  miles,  these  farming  post  houses  are 
to  be  found.  They  are  taverns  as  well,  and  bound 
b\'  law  to  accommodate  travellers.  Our  route  did  not 
require  this  sort  of  travel;  although,  upon  some  parts 
of  our  road,  we  stopped  at  the  post  stations,  and  the 
road  at  times  was  trying  to  our  carriage.  When  the 
travel  is  lively,  there  is  a  great  rush  to  get  in  ahead 
at  the  stations  for  the  first  and  freshest  horses.  There 
is  a  regular  tariff  of  prices  for  these  carioles;  but  we 
had  none  of  them,  and  congratulate  ourselves.     The 


MOUNTAINS    OF   NORWAY.  153 

roads  were  not  all  bad,  and  some  of  them  were 
splendid. 

By  noon  of  the  12th  of  July,  we  examine  our 
vehicle  and  approve  of  it.  It  looks  a  little  seedy, 
and  the  big^  sacks  of  hay  and  other  provender  strapped 
behind  make  it  look  bulky  and  unwieldy.  Our  traps 
are  aboard,  our  guide  up  with  the  driver,  and  we  pre- 
pare for  a  lovel)'  day.  We  pass  the  villas  on  the 
heights  about  Christiania,  skirting  its  beautiful  fjord, 
with  its  valleys  fruitful  in  vegetable  gardens,  with 
sweet  peas  and  potatoes  in  bloom,  fields  of  rye  and 
barley,  and  forests  of  the  ever-graceful  birch.  Our 
course  is  southwest,  between  the  Christiania  fjord 
and  Holsfjord;  for  be  it  known  that  all  these  inland 
waters,  not  excepting  rivers  and  lakes,  seem  to  be 
called  fjords.  This  is  the  road  to  the  famous  Ring- 
erike  country.  The  scenery  is  becoming  wild;  the 
valley  narrows;  rugged  rocks  mount  up  on  either 
side  as  we  follow  up,  up,  up,  with  the  winding  of  a 
torrent  all  musical  with  cataracts,  which  from  point  to 
point  answer  each  other.  Tiny  tributaries  everywhere 
trip  through  the  pines,  to  make  these  torrents. 

About  three  in  the  afternoon  we  reach  Hommedal. 
It  is  a  station  for  carioles.  Many  visitors  are  there. 
We  lunch  on  milk,  fish  and  hashed  corn  beef,  called 
cabonade.  It  is  quite  common  here,  where  fresh  meat 
is  not  to  be  had.  After  lunch  we  adjourn  to  the 
rocks  in  the  pine  woods  that  overlook  the  Holsfjord, 
fifteen  hundred  feet  below,  with  a  view  of  the  distant 
Tyri-fjord,  ten  English  miles  wide  and  some  thirty 
long.  Upon  the  bosom  of  these  waters  a  single  boat, 
with  oars,  seems  like  an  insect  with  aiitennce,  while  the 
green  and  rocky  isles  make  it  as  attractive  to  the  eye 
as  a  Swiss  scene.  "  Guten-dag  !  "  sounds  a  voice 
from  behind,  and  I  turn  to  greet  a  New  York  Nor- 


154  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

wegian,  who  is  here  at  the  birthplace  of  his  wife, 
to  renew  the  scenes  of  their  earlier  days.  They 
were  astonished  to  find  their  Congressman  so  far 
out  of  his  bailiwick  in  the  deep  ambush  of  Nor- 
wegian firs ;  but  after  exchanging  views  and  ci- 
gars, we  shake  hands  to  meet  at  the  polls !  The 
world  seems  so  small  when  neighbors  appear  trav- 
elling in  such  remote  by-ways  as  the  Ringerike  of 
Norway ! 

What  a  ride  followed  this  little  rest !  All  the 
senses  were  employed  to  gather  in  its  delights.  The 
road  skirts  the  two  fjords  until  we  reach  Sund- 
volen,  the  head  of  Tyri-Qord,  which  is  connected 
by  a  bridge  and  a  ridge  of  rocks,  with  still  an- 
other fjord.  This  road  can  be  likened  to  no  other 
in  our  experience  than  the  Corniche,  with  whose 
every  phase  from  Cannes  to  Bordighera,  we  were 
made  familiar  during  a  winter's  sojourn  at  Mentone. 
Many  miles  of  it  are  cut  out  of  the  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain. The  road  looks  up,  as  far  as  it  looks  down — 
two  thousand  feet  each  way.  The  mountains  are  full 
of  great  fissures,  showing  that  this  part  of  Norway 
had  a  great  shaking  and  splitting  up  at  some  epoch. 
The  road  is  made  safe  to  vehicles  by  rocks  posted 
on  the  perilous  side,  some  five  feet  apart.  Conifera 
of  all  kinds  and  birches  grow  on  and  out  of  the  rocks, 
and  the  deep  clefts  and  roadside  are  adorned  with 
wild  roses,  white  and  pink,  in  profusion.  The  birch, 
however,  is  paramount.  My  wife,  in  contemplating 
the  spectacle,  is  struck  with  an  idea — not  with  the 
birch — and  she  intimates  that  if  my  mother  had  lived 
on  the  sides  of  Rins^erike,  I  would  have  been  a 
better  boy.  But  I  thought,  and  suggested,  that 
birch  was  only  intended  to  build  canoes  for  our 
noble   aborigines. 


MOUNTAINS    OF  NORWAY 


o: 


The  woods  arc  full  of  berries.  If  we  did  not  see 
the  little  wild  strawberry,  we  should  know  it  was 
numerous  here;  as  the  naked-footed  children  rush 
out  of  leafy  coverts  with  them,  freshly  picked  and  in 
birch-bark  baskets.  Twenty-five  ore,  or  five  cents, 
will  buy  enough  for  a  surfeit.  The  bill-berry  also  is 
common.  It  is  suggestive  of  bears,  of  which  stories 
are  beiifinninjj  to  be  rife  between  our  ofuide  and  the 
driver,  for  the  bears  go  a  bill-berrying  a  good  deal 
in  this  part  of  Norway.  It  is  rugged  and  savage 
enouo^h  for  the  animal.  There  is  a  sort  of  fearful 
pleasure  in  these  zoological  sensations.  But  do  we 
not  know  that  bears  are  outlawed  by  statute  ?  As  it 
is  generally  believed  that  bears  understand  Norse, 
they  must  be  aware  of  their  relation  to  the  State,  and 
that  moneyed  rewards  are  offered  for  their  scalps. 
They  kept  out  of  our  path.  The  resinous  smell  of 
the  pines  alternates  with  the  fragrance  of  the  violets, 
and  from  the  fields  far  below,  the  keen  scent  detects 
the  attar  of  clover,  which  makes  a  delicious  confusion 
of  sweet  fragrance. 

Are  there  none  but  ourselves  to  enjoy  this  splen- 
did mountain  side?  Oh!  yes.  We  pass  some  of  the 
peasantry — the  pride  of  the  Ringerike,  in  their  quaint 
costumes — the  women  with  black  head-dresses  and 
red  aprons,  inwoven  with  their  kirtles.  The  head- 
dress is  not  unlike  a  bishop's  mitre.  The  men  wear 
the  classic  cap  of  Phrygia,  bonnet  rouge,  and  their 
pantaloons,  before  and  behind,  show  a  mutual  ad- 
venture to  meet  over  the  shoulder  without  the  aid 
of  gallowses. 

Invariably  the  peasants  greet  us  politely.  The 
men  doff  their  caps  and  the  women  and  girls  drop  a 
quick  courtesy. 

"  But   stop !    Rene,"    we    exclaim    to    our   guide, 


156  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

"what's    that    under    the    bushes    ahead!      Bears? 
Hold  on!" 

What  think  you,  sprang  up  ?  Seven  girls,  with 
knapsacks  on  their  backs,  and  all  rosy  with  their 
walk  or  their  embarrassment  at  being"  caught  re- 
dining  under  a  birch-tree.  They  were  just  twice 
the  number  of  the  graces,  plus  one.  Now  this 
was  romantic.  They  laugh  and  giggle,  and  after 
greetings,  I  ask,  "Do  you  speak  French?"  "AW/" 
''  English  ?  "  "A  leetle,"  says  the  pedestrienne  in 
command,  and  by  the  aid  of  our  interpreter  we  un- 
ravel their  designs.  They  started  in  the  morning 
trom  home  on  the  Christiania  fjord  and  intend  to 
make  Krogleven  to-night,  so  as  to  see  from  its  lofty 
and  rocky  heights  the  sun  rise  upon  all  the  land  and 
waters  round  about  the  Ringerike  !  Such  pedestrian 
tours  by  young  women  are  not  uncommon  in  Nor- 
way. They  walk  a  Norwegian  mile  (eight  miles)  in 
two  hours,  and  enjoy  the  scenery  and  the  promenade 
with  a  taste  which  is  illustrated  in  their  drawing  books 
and  journals,  as  well  as  in  their  bright,  frank,  blue 
eyes  and  healthy,  roseate  cheeks.  But  this  was  our 
particular  group  of  Dryads.  We  had  a  good  title  to 
them  all;  for  had  we  not  discovered  them  ?  We  an- 
nounce ourselves  as  American,  at  which  there  was  a 
mutual  look  and  exclamation  of  wonder, — "  So! "  We 
applaud  their  adventure,  and  ask  gallantly  if  they  do 
not  want  a  cavalier  ?  They  indicate  that  such  ap- 
pendages are  superfluous  and  a  constraint  upon  their 
maiden  meditation.  We  have  a  bottle  of  the  Widow 
Cliquot,  and  propose  to  share  it — to  relieve  their  fa- 
tigue and  inspire  their  ambition.  There  never  was 
a  cork  which  sounded  more  hilarious  as  it  flew  from 
the  botdc,  than  did  that  particular  cork,  now  in  pos- 
session of  the  seven  sylvan  Norse  nymphs.     I  gave 


MOUNTAINS    OF  NORWAY. 


O/ 


them  to  understand  thai  they  must  each  ^-jve  their 
names,  as  they  sipped  the  widow's  sparkHni^-  vintage, 
as  I  was  writing  a  Norse  novel  and  wanted  to  com- 
plete my  nomenclature  of  mountain  damsels.  Up 
stepped  "Canuta,"  and  the  beaded  beaker  was  drained 
with  a  courtesy  and  a  "  Tak !  "  Then  Hilda,  Guld- 
borg,  Astrid,  Ingeborg,  Dagna,  and  last,  youngest 
and  bonniest  of  all,  Olava,  daughter  of  Saint  Olaf 
himself— maidens  each  and  all,  worthy  of  the  canvas 
of  Winge  or  the  pages  of  the  Edda.  The  goblet 
drained  to  its  last  drop,  and  the  bottle  tumbling  down 
the  gorge,  our  white  Norwegians  ponies  start  down 
hill  with  a  wild  trot,  as  if  they  too  enjoyed  the  cham- 
pagne, the  occasion  and  the  mountain  air !  One  re- 
flection: Why  is  it  that  such  travels  by  the  unpro- 
tected female  under  the  deer-hide  knapsack  are  so 
common  and  so  safe  in  Norway,  and  in  other  lands, 
not  so? 

All  of  these  errant  damsels  were  fair  haired.  They 
are  the  models  of  the  angels  painted  in  the  domes  of 
basilicas  and  on  the  canvas  of  art.  Was  it  not  one 
of  the  Popes  who  punned  the  "Angles"  into  angels 
when  he  saw  the  fair  prisoners  of  the  Roman  slave 
market  ?  It  is  related  of  the  wife  of  Kingf  Harold 
Harfager,  that  her  body  remained  red  and  fresh,  for 
three  years  after  death;  so  potent  was  the  spell  of 
her  beauty. 

Blue  eyed,  with  flaxen,  red  or  auburn  hair,  ruddy 
lips  and  cheek — these  are  the  maidens  who  entrance 
the  dark-eyed  artists  of  Italy  and  Spain,  while  for 
compensation  the  ruddy  Sawney  or  straw-hued  Briton 
is  enamored  of  the  Italian  and  Spanish  beauties.  The 
bella  barba  bianca  of  which  southern  nymphs  of  the 
dark  eye  and  hair  are  enamored,  add  much  romance 
to  Roman  aesthetics  and  give  new  graces,  by  loving 


T58  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

contrast,  to  the  angelic  ideals  of  Seville.  It  is  the 
pine  in  love  with  the  palm ;  the  pole  with  the 
pyramid ! 

As  the  road  approaches  Sundvolen  we  go  directly- 
north.  Above  us,  three  thousand  feet,  is  the  hotel, 
where  our  pedestriennes  are  to  sleep  over  night,  for 
their  view  of  sunrise.  The  fields  far  below  are  in 
fine  culture;  here  and  there  are  large  red  farm  and 
outhouses  in  clusters.  A  little  steamer  is  seen  far 
off  upon  the  fjord.  It  looks  like  a  toy.  All  about  is 
the  Ringerike.  "Ring"  was  a  Saga,  and  "  Rik " 
is  a  little  kingdom.  This  is  the  philology;  but  I 
prefer  to  fancy  that  it  is  called  this — the  King's 
Ring — because  it  is  a  rich  and  royal  circlet  of 
mountains,  fit  for  the  wedding  of  the  heavens  with 
the  earth. 

Far  off,  truncated  Gausta,  one  of  the  highest  moun- 
tains in  Norway,  shines  in  cloud  and  snow.  The  isles 
in  the  fjord,  and  even  the  bridge  we  cross  is  of  rocks, 
so  hard  that  the  moss  scarcely  clings  to  them,  but 
tradition  does.  Did  not  the  giantess  Girahaug  cast 
these  huge  stones  at  a  church  in  Norderhov  ?  Did 
not  the  missiles  fall  short  ?  Did  she  not  lose  a  leg 
which  flew  off  when  she  was  drowned  in  the  water  ? 
This  legend  is  said  to  be  a  part  of  the  "  Wisdom  of 
the  Ancients  "  of  this  land,  and  illustrates  the  fruitless 
attempts  of  bad  giantesses  and  other  evil  genii  against 
the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect. 

But  soon  we  come  to  a  place  renowned  for  real 
womanly  heroism.  It  is  quite  a  contrast  with  the 
fable  which  connects  the  flickering  auroras  of  the 
Eddas  with  the  nebulous  moralities.  Near  this  same 
church,  now  undergoing  complete  change,  lived  a 
pastor,  whose  wife — Anna  Kolbjoernsdatter,  in  17 16, 
while  the  Swedes  were  invading  Norway — destroyed 


MOUNTAINS    OF  NORWAY.  1 59 

her  country's  foes  by  a  stratagem.  Her  husband  was 
ill  at  the  time,  but  she  was  equal  to  the  emerge#icy. 
She  made  the  Swedish  soldiers  drunk,  and  set  fire  to 
a  pile  of  wood  as  a  beacon,  pretending  to  be  warm- 
ing up  the  Swedes.  The  Norwegian  heroes  in  a 
neighboring  town  saw  the  lurid  sign,  and  the  Swedes 
were  annihilated.  We  verified  this  pretty  story  by  a 
call  at  the  parsonage,  where  a  picture  hangs  in  the 
commodious  chamber,  showing  the  heroine  in  the  ruse 
of  appealing  to  the  Swedish  officers  for  liberty  to  send 
her  nurse,  who  lit  the  beacon,  on  a  domestic  errand. 
This  part  was  not  exactly  heroic,  but  it  was  much  bet- 
ter than  the  attempt  of  the  gigantic  female  of  the 
mountain.  In  this  parsonage  we  noted  one  thing, 
that  every  picture  on  the  wall  was  surrounded  by  liv- 
ing, creeping  vines,  ivy  prominent.  Ivy  is  the  na- 
tional plant  of  Norway,  so  much  is  it  in  favor  with  all 
classes,  and  on  all  festive  occasions. 

We  are  down  on  a  level  with  the  waters  now,  and 
still  bound  northward,  as  my  compass  points,  toward 
the  end  of  our  first  day's  journey  at  Honefoss.  Most 
of  the  houses  away  from  the  fruitful  dales  (or  dais), 
are  log  built;  and  "  chinked  with  moss,  without 
daubin'."  They  are  rarely  painted,  but  the  farm- 
houses of  the  dale  are  finely  built,  and  are  generally 
painted  red  or  yellow — the  national  hues.  They  are 
called  stabbiLT,  and  are  raised  on  posts,  as  a  protec- 
tion against  the  rat.  Some  of  the  stables  show  some 
carving,  of  two  hundred  years  ago.  The  pillars  and 
eaves  are  of  oak  or  pine,  and  well  preserved.  In 
the  earlier  centuries,  among  other  graces  in  which 
the  young  peasants  were  trained,  beside  that  of  wrest- 
ling, rowing,  skating,  writing,  fiddling,  and  song- 
singing,  was  that  of  wood-carving.  In  spite  of  wind 
and  weather,  frost  and  time,  the  proofs  of  this  ac- 


i6o 


FROM   POLE     TO    PYRAMID. 


complishment  remain  in  house  and  barn,  throughout 
the  realm.  This  page  reveals  a  fair  specimen  of  this 
work. 


NORWEGIAN   STABBUR, 


Everywhere  in  the  vales  the  hay- harvest  is  going 
on.  The  men  are  mowine  with  a  straiorht-handled 
scythe,  which  looks  very  awkward.  The  women  do 
the  raking.  Both  men  and  women  put  up  the  poles 
on  the  uprights,  and  spread  the  green  grass  to  cure 
upon  them;  so  that  the  long  lines  of  grass  upon  these 
poles  in  the  meadows  give  the  pleasing  sight  of  hedge- 
rows. At  every  barn  there  are  sheafs  of  grain,  one 
or  two,  sometimes  on  the  side  of  the  barn,  and  some- 
times on  a  sort  of  liberty-pole.  Indeed  it  is  a  liberty- 
pole;  for  the  birds  are  free  to  feed.    This  is  a  common 


MOrA'TAINS    OF  NOKIVAY.  l6l 

custom  in  Scandinavia.  It  is  called  "  hospitality  to 
the  birds."  But  with  all  this  persuasive  and  refined 
hospitality,  birds  are  rare.  Excepting  a  few  pilfering 
crows,  with  a  brownish  white  back,  and  now  and  then 
a  singino-  bullfinch  or  other  warbler,  we  see  few  birds. 
I  may  except  the  magpie,  which  has  a  kleptomania 
for  rino;s  and  other  Qrlitterincr  valuables.  Some  birds 
have  a  bad  name;  but  no  bird  ever  did  any  harm. 
Even  the  worst  birds  of  prey  act  as  scavengers,  and 
do  as  much  good  as  harm.  I  say  this  boldly,  as  a 
featherless  biped,  anxious  to  do  justice  to  this  part 
of  creation;  and  therefore  I  do  not  join  in  the  great 
dislike  even  of  the  larcenous  crow,  vain  magpie,  or 
aggressive  sparrow.  But  for  the  owl,  buzzard  and 
hawk,  the  lemmingfs  —  which  are  a  sort  of  rat — 
would  devour  quadrennially  every  green  thing  in 
Norway.  These  pests  of  the  peasantry  produce 
scarcity,  and  but  for  the  birds  and  another  enemy, 
the  reindeer,  would  produce  starvation. 

There  are  not  many  singing  birds  in  Norway. 
I  miss  the  songs  which  should  give  zest  to  travel 
and  charm  to  these  grand  forests.  What  are  pri- 
meval trees,  gnarled  and  mossed,  however  "woodsy 
and  wild  and  lonesome,"  without  the  cheerful  carol. 
This  primal  necessity  of  a  Paradise,  is  not  filled 
by  the  cries  of  hungry  cross-bills,,  and  hooded 
crows,  the  chatter  of  the  dandified  jay,  and  the  dole- 
ful trumpet  note  of  the  crane.  There  are  signs  of 
life,  in  field,  marsh,  and  wood;  but  they  are  not 
jocund  like  that  of  the  harbingers  of  spring.  The 
remark  as  to  the  paucity  of  musical  birds,  should  be 
limited  to  my  own  observation,  and  as  compared  with 
other  lands.  In  summer  there  are  many  migrant 
warblers,  who  leave  before  the  autumn,  and  make 
the   gardens  and   woods   about  the   towns    musical 


1 62  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

while  they  stay.  The  nightingale  rarely  ventures 
into  Norway,  though  it  makes  Sweden  happy.  The 
robin -red-breast  is  seen  now  and  then,  in  the  deep 
forests.  But  there  is  a  songstress  I  had  nearly 
omitted.  It  is  called  the  willow-warbler,  or  bastard 
nightingale,  which  I  have  seen  and  recognized  on 
the  wing  by  his  greenish-gray  plumage  and  his  tail  | 
feathers  silver  tipped.  Its  song  swells  and  falls  sweet- 
ly from  the  silvery  birch  forests  and  bushy  under- 
growth. It  is  said  to  be  the  finest  musician  of  its 
class.  Thrushes,  blackbirds,  ouzels,  wagtails,  in  fact 
from  the  screamino:  eaMe  to  the  twittering  tit,  there 
is,  according  to  the  nomenclature,  much  hospitality 
for  birds  in  these  short  summers;  but  we  did  not  see 
much  opportunity  for  its  display. 

If  anything  could  fill  their  places  is  it  not  the 
thousand  wayside  flowerets,  which  have  a  music  of 
their  own,  the  "  spirit  ditty  of  no  tone  ?  "  Every- 
where they  peep  above  the  rough,  rocky  ground,  and 
embroider  the  green  tissue  of  the  meadows.  Whole 
fields  of  violets  tricolored,  anemones,  pansies,  wild 
geranium,  harebells,  larkspur,  columbine,  and  mar- 
guerites, not  to  speak  of  the  yellow  and  white  flow- 
ering mosses,  abound  in  bewildering  variety  of  color 
and  form  in  this  region, 

The  asphodel,  the  golden  rod, 
The  daisy  blooming-  on  the  sod. 
And   nodding  in  the  wind — 

decorate  these  vast  cliffs  and  glaciers.  Some  of 
them  are  found  beyond  the  Arctic  Circle,  and 
even  at  the  base  of  the  furthermost  rock  upon 
the  furthest  isle  of  the  bleak  north !  But  in  this 
part  of  Norway,  especially  in  the  fields  at  the  foot 
of  the  King's  Ring,  there  is  such  an  energy  in 
the  production  of  the  flower,  that  the  white  and  red 


MOUNTAINS    OF   NORWAY.  1 63 

clover  fields  arc  amazing,  as  well  for  the  size  of  the 
cloverheads  as  for  their  sweetness  and  abundance. 
What  a  place  for  milk  and  honey — for  cows  and  bees! 
Yet,  above  these  meadows  we  see,  by  the  aid  of  the 
lorgnette,  little  strips  of  pasture  where  chalets,  like 
those  of  Switzerland,  seem  to  hang  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  steep  mountains.  Who  can  live  there  ? 
How  reach  their  homes?  How  return  to  the  valleys? 
If  it  be  such  perilous  labor  to  live  in  Norway,  is  it  to 
be  wondered  that  the  fertile  soil  of  Dakota  and 
Wisconsin  has  drawn  them  to  the  settinof  sun  ?  We 
hear  stories  of  these  pastoral  mountaineers  endeavor- 
ing to  cut  the  little  grass  upon  the  precipitous  heights, 
and  who  have  perished  in  their  attempts  to  provide 
for  the  long  winter,  and  their  poor  kine,  sheep  and 
goats.  How  can  these  remote  dwellers  be  cared  for 
in  case  of  sickness,  or  death  ?  These  questions  we 
asked,  and  received  for  answer,  that  sometimes  the 
bodies  of  the  dead  had  to  be  broken  at  the  back- 
bone, and  then  shouldered  and  placed  on  horseback, 
and  thus  brought  clown  to  be  coffined  and  buried. 
Sunday  used  to  be  the  day  for  the  gathering  of  the 
dead  for  a  general  burial. 

Yes;  somebody  cares  for  these  lonely  ones.  On 
our  way  to  Kongsburg  we  met  over  a  dozen  women 
in  their  gay  costumes,  dressed  up,  as  if  for  Sunday. 
Each  led  one  or  two  children.  They  gave  us  their 
bows,  and  we  wondered  at  the  peculiar  procession. 
At  last  I  stopped  an  old  lady,  with  a  two-year  old, 
trudging  in  the  sandy  road. 

"  What  are  so  many  children  doing  out  to-day  in 
this  lonely  pass  ? "  She  seemed  surprised  at  the 
question. 

"  They  are  going  to  the  next  town  to  be  vacci- 
nated," she  said. 


1 64  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

The  doctor,  by  order  of  the  government,  had  sum- 
moned the  Httle  ones  to  come  unto  him,  and  they 
were  walking  six  and  ten  miles,  for  the  purpose. 
The  little  ones  looked  serious  and  apprehensive 
of  something.  If  there  was  any  sickness,  small- 
pox or  otherwise,  in  these  remote  places,  we  did  not 
verify  it.  It  would  seem  that  the  balsamic  influences 
of  the  piny  region  should  furnish  a  whole  materia 
medica ;  for  one  can  inhale  resinous  Norway  as 
Napoleon  did  Corsica  when  exiled,  not  by  imagina- 
tion only,  but  in  very  deed,  even  when  far  at  sea. 

Our  destination  is  almost  reached,  but  we  cannot 
forget  a  back  review  of  the  strange  and  wonderful 
route  by  which  we  reach  Honefoss.  I  compared  it 
with  the  Corniche  road  in  Southern  Europe.  It  has 
not  the  terraced  beauties  of  that  famous  road,  with 
its  lemon,  oran^-e  and  olive  trees,  althoucrh  it  has  the 
same  water  view  and  magnificent  mountains.  Its 
waters,  however  clear  and  serenely  reflective  of  the 
shadows  of  the  mountains,  have  not  the  prismatic 
colors  of  the  sea  on  the  rocky  shores  and  surf  along 
the  Riviera.  One  pass  may  be  compared  to  Cape 
Horn,  on  our  California  route,  but  I  thought  con- 
tinually, as  we  travelled,  of  the  Corsican  coast  road, 
north  of  Ajaccio,  with  its  untrodden  and  machie- 
covered  forests.  If  comparison  were  needed,  it  is 
more  like  the  road  from  Lake  Iseo  to  Tirano,  in  the 
Orisons,  and  it  evoked  the  same  enthusiasm,  except 
this :  that  while  the  Bernini  pass  had  its  waterfalls,  it 
liad  not  that  wild,  incessant  grandeur  for  which  the 
fosses  or  falls  of  Norway  are  celebrated.  To  one  of 
these  fosses  we  are  pilgrims,  and  our  first  day  finds 
us  at  Honefoss,  where  we  rest. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

MORE   MOUNTAIN   EXPERIENCES  — CONSERVATIVE   NORWAY  — 
SCHOLARS  AND   DIALECTS. 

"  The  sJiuddcriiig  fcnaiit  of  the  frigid  zone, 
Boldly  proclai)ns  the  happiest  spot  his  own." 

Goldsmith. 

IF  Ireland  has  her  three  F's,  as  it  is  said,  Norway 
has  hers — fjords,  fjelds  and  fosses !  The  letter 
"y"  has  but  little  sound;  as  the  words  are  pronounced 
"  fee-ord  "  and  "  fee-eld."  The  Norse  has  no  plural 
with  an  "  i","  but  adds  '' cr"  for  that  purpose.  Of 
course,  our  old  \Noxd&  ford,  field  2i\\di  force  come  from 
these  Norse  orieinals;  althougrh  their  meanings  have 
been  much  modified  by  time  and  usage.  The  inland 
waters  of  the  country  we  are  visiting  are  connected 
with  the  salt  sea  on  the  south.  They  flow  into  the 
Christiania  fjord,  which  is  the  upper  end  of  the  Ska- 
ger-Rack.  but  they  are/zr^-/^  water,  and  are  called  fjords 
on  the  map,  though  much  unlike  the  grand  fjords  of 
the  Atlantic  and  Arctic,  or  the  western  coast  of  Nor- 
way, which  we  have  threaded.  These  inland  fjords 
are  sometimes  swift-running  streams,  or  placid  lakes, 
out  of  which  the  fosses  leap  in  fussy  silvery  spray. 
The  old  English  ford  is  any  sort  of  a  river.  Our 
American  ford  is  the  point  of  a  river  which  is  pass- 
able. The  Norse  fjeld  is  a  high  plateau,  like  our 
Texas  tableland.  It  has  extent  as  well  as  capacity 
for  cultivation.  The  foss  is  one  of  the  peculiar  fea- 
tures of  Norway.     Norwegians  boast  of  it  as  their 


1 66  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

grandest  thing;  but  it  bears  no  comparison  with  the 
Jjords  or  fjclds,  surrounded,  and  in  fact,  made  by  the 
mountians. 

"  Ah,"  said  our  guide,  "  you  should  see  Rjukanfos 
It  is  eight  hundred  feet  high."  So  it  is,  but  the  vol- 
ume of  water  is  a  thimbiefull  aloncrside  of  Niasfara 
and  its  inimitable  thunder.  It  has  no  great  shake 
or  quake.  These  fosses  are  not  sublime  nor  grand; 
but  the  best  of  them  are — like  those  in  the  Alps — ■ 
beautiful.  They  are  useful  withal,  as  they  furnish 
water  power  to  cut  timber,  and  grind  grain  for  food 
and  pulp  for  paper.  We  do  not  visit  Honefoss, 
merely  to  see  its  falls,  nor  the  water  power  there 
utilized.  The  mountain  scenery  and  its  associa- 
tions furnish  the  main  allurement.  Its  foss  is  seen 
from  and  under  a  brido-e,  as  we  enter  the  village. 
It  is  unmistakably  wild.  Our  hotel  gives  us  another 
sight  of  it.  From  the  pretty  garden  of  the  hotel 
we  can  see  up  and  down  the  wild  Stor  river  with- 
out obstruction.  As  the  big  round  moon  silvered 
the  foss,  it  had  a  whiteness  that  was  strano-e  and 
ghostly.  This  foss  is  a  watering  place  in  many 
senses.  After  some  fishing,  we  find  here  quite  a 
company  of  foreigners.  There  is  a  matron  and  two 
daughters,  to  whom  we  are  drawn.  We  thought 
them  English,  and  yet  they  had  a  queer  un-English 
accent.  For  some  time  we  could  not  make  out  their 
dialect.  At  length  an  odd-looking  omnibus  drives  up. 
It  looks  like  an  inverted  Irish  jaunting  car.  One  of 
the  mysterious  young  ladies— like  Mrs.  Edgeworth's 
hero  of  the  "  Brogue  " — revealed  herself  and  nation 
at  once  by  exclaiming:  "  D'ye  see  that  machine  now.^*" 
Whereat  she  pulled  up  as  quick  as  the  vehicle,  say- 
ing: "  Mother!  will  I  iver  get  over  being  an  Irish- 
man ? "     Yet  she  had  been   teaching  and  studying 


MORE    MOUNTAIN   EXPERIENCES.  167 

seven  years  in  Norway,  but  with  her,  as  with  other 
Celts,  the  old  mother  tongue  was  still  musical  with 
the  brooue. 

Our  second  day  takes  us  south,  on  the  west  shore 
of  the  big-  Tyri -fjord.  This  is  done  by  rail  as  far  as 
Kongsburg.  In  this  excursion,  we  have  many  in- 
teresting companions;  and  among  them  the  Czar's 
master  of  ceremonies.  Like  a  true  Russian,  he  talks 
in  all  the  tono:ues.  He  is  travellino;-  for  recreation, 
and,  poor  man,  has  he  not  earned  it  ?  It  must  be  a 
relief  to  be  absent  from  the  perilous  precincts  of  the 
Winter  and  Peterhoff  Palaces.  A  narrow-gauge  rail- 
road follows  the  Drammen  river,  till  it  leaves  us  for 
the  East;  then  we  make  an  acute  angle  at  Hougsund, 
where  there,  too,  is  a  foss  and  salmon  boxes.  We 
then  follow  the  Laagan  to  Kongsburg.  One  mis- 
take we  make.  We  o-et  into  the  wrono^  car.  This 
is  corrected  by  the  vigilance  of  a  Norwegian  from 
Wisconsin,  who  saw  our  dilemma  and  nationality  and 
came  to  our  rescue.  These  rivers  are  full  of  lo^s 
stripped  for  the  mill  and  navigation — logs  every 
where:  logs  at  rest,  logs  in  motion,  logs  in  eddies, 
loofs  boundinof  over  fosses,  loofs  in  a  whirl,  loo's  shoot- 
ing  straight  down,  logs  piled  on  one  another  and 
loes  in  rafts — loQfs,  loofs,  losfs.  I  have  seen  our  Con- 
necticut  River,  from  its  source  in  New  Hampshire,  in 
the  floating  timber  season;  but,  compared  with  its 
timber,  this  endless  pine  and  birch  navigation  is  not 
to  be  mentioned.  I  undertook  to  count,  somewhat 
facetiously,  the  miles,  or  millions,  of  logs  in  a  big 
boom  on  the  Drammen.  It  reminded  me  of  the 
way  distinguished  Speakers  used  to  count  the  "ayes" 
and  "  noes  "  in  Congress.  One  would  think  such  a 
wooden  exodus  w^ould  exhaust  the  Norwegian  groves; 
but  the  growth  alone  supplies  the  loss  tenfold,  and 


1 68  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

leaves  the  immense  forests  intact.  Most  of  this  tim- 
ber eoes  to  Holland  and  England.  It  furnishes  the 
business  for  a  large  part  of  Norway.  Over  110,000 
tons  of  wood  go  to  these  two  countries  alone,  from 
the  town  of  Drammen.  Its  fleet  numbers  three  hun- 
dred vessels,  with  a  burden  of  72,000  tons.  The 
timber  is  sent  abroad  in  all  shapes,  mostly  raw  and 
sawed,  but  much  of  it  is  made  into  doors  and  win- 
dows, and  is  ready  for  the  utilities  of  domestic  shel- 
ter. The  birch  is  used  for  tanning,  roofing  and  fuel 
as  well  at  the  lofty  glebes  as  at  the  cottages  of  the 
vale. 

There  are  many  uses  to  which  the  Norwegian 
wood  is  put  beside  that  of  lumber.  The  juniper  is 
used  to  cover  the  floors,  and,  like  true  goodness,  it 
gives  forth  its  aroma  when  trodden  upon.  It  is  used 
in  spittoons — another  ignoble  purpose.  It  is  some- 
times boiled  at  the  saeters  or  mountain  farms,  and  is 
ladled  out  as  cow-tea!  The  elm  bark  is  often  ground 
with  meal.  I  have  tried  to  eat  the  ganiincl  ost,  or 
old  cheese,  here,  and  to  swallow  the  \\2l\'(\  find  brod ; 
but  the  experiment  of  eating  wood  is  yet  to  be  made 
Perhaps  the  turpentine  beer,  drank  a  la  Norse  out 
of  the  unfriendly  skull,  would  give  a  zest  to  the  ex- 
periment. Certainly  it  would  be  a  mixed,  if  not  a 
heady  drink. 

The  vegetable  energy  of  Norway  is  notable.  In 
a  large  part  of  the  country  only  ten  weeks  are  al- 
lowed for  vegetation — to  get  the  crops  in  and  out  of 
the  soil.  Barley  and  peas  grow  two  or  three  inches 
a  day  in  the  season;  grass  is  growing  under  the  snow 
up  to  sixty-five  degrees  latitude,  and  the  birch  and 
pine  all  the  time.  Still,  I  am  yet  to  see  trees  of  ex- 
traordinary altitude  or  girth,  such  as  would  furnish 
the   Miltonic- Satanic   spear,  ecpal  to   the   tall  pine 


MORE    MOUNTAIN    FXTF.R/F.XCF.S.  169 

hewn  on  Norwegian  hills  to  be  the  mast  of  some 
hio'h  admiral.  These  loirs  of  the  torrents  and  fosses 
are  hut  as  wands  compared  with  the  epic  spear. 

Konofsburof  is  celebrated  for  its  silver  mines. 
They  are  situated  in  the  high  mountains,  six  miles 
from  the  town.  They  have  collected  quite  a  village 
in  a  wild,  romantic  spot.  Compared  with  our  Ne- 
vada mines,  they  are,  of  course,  meagre;  still,  they 
are  worked  by  four  hundred  men,  and  yield  a  mil- 
lion of  kronen  per  year,  or  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  We  visited  the  smelting  works  and  bouglit 
some  chaste  argentiferous  crystals  as  souvenirs. 

These  Norwegian  towns  have  suffered  much  from 
fire,  and,  in  some  places,  as  at  Trondhjem,  wooden 
buildino-s  have  been  forbidden.  But  timber  is  so 
cheap  that  it  is  difficult  to  forbid  such  shelter  as  it 
affords.  All  the  houses  of  Kongsburg  are  of  timber, 
except  the  church  and  smelting  works. 

We  are  nicely  lodged  in  an  ancient  hotel.  Here 
we  may  study  Norwegian  heroism  and  customs. 
The  walls  of  the  rooms  are  a  study,  for  they  are 
covered  with  paintings,  chromos  and  engravings  of 
national  subjects,  running  back  to  the  time  of  the 
Danish  connection.  Our  dining-room  has  a  picture 
of  Elsinore.  This,  our  Danish  guide— now  a  month 
from  home — leaps  to  explain,  as  the  loais  in  quo  of 
the  great  ghostly  drama  of  Shakespeare.  He  points 
out  the  kingly  castle  and  the  Hamlet  battlement ; 
but  what  a  fall  does  fancy  get !  These  spots,  which 
on  the  mimic  stage  have  frozen  our  blood  with  their 
eager  and  nipping  air  and  spectral  apparition,  are 
here  colored  under  summer  skies.  Green  woods 
canopy  the  placid  wave  and  furnish  a  comfortable 
home  where  cottage  chimneys  smoke,  while  a  fisher- 
man's boat  lazily  floats  under  languid  sail,  as  if  no 


lyo  FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 

weird  or  wicked  thing  or  king  ever  haunted  this 
histrionic  vicinity. 

Another  picture  our  Danish  guide  dilates  upon 
with  jealous  pride.  It  is  that  of  Admiral  Turbens- 
kiold,  who  jumped,  with  sabre  between  his  teeth, 
into  the  waters  of  Copenhagen  and  swam  to  his  ship 
to  foil  his  country's  foes.  This  admiral,  we  are  told, 
was  a  tailor,  and  when  he  attained  celebrity  by  his 
maritime  skill  and  valor  he  was  known  as  the 
"  American  of  the  North  of  Europe."  We  ask  why? 
Our  guide  says  that  when  he  attended  court,  he 
never  wore  gloves  or  white  neckerchief,  but  rolled 
up  his  plebeian  breeches  over  his  big  top-boots, 
which  were  never  blackened.  It  was  for  this  eccen- 
tricity that  the  compliment  was  paid  to  the  naval 
hero  and  to  the  American  Republic.  Near  by  him 
hung  pictures  of  Andersen,  the  fairy  story-teller  and 
fabulist,  whom  all  men,  women,  and  children  love. 
Upon  the  table  rests  a  volume  of  "  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress," with  a  photograph  of  Bunyan's  tomb  in  Bur- 
hill  fields  ;  and  etchings  of  that  excellent  man  Chris- 
tian, whose  namesakes  have  so  often  filled  the 
throne,  and  from  whom  so  many  children  here  have 
been  named.  These  chance  observations  and  pic- 
tures are  indices  of  the  thouo^hts,  feelinofs,  and  en- 
thusiasms  of  this  simple  people  in  their  rustic  homes. 

At  Kongsburg  we  project  a  wild  tour  toward 
the  west.  We  are  told  that  the  path  to  it  is  exceed- 
ingly romantic,  and  so  we  procure  provender  and 
carriage  and  start  for  Tinoset,  at  the  foot  of  Tinsoe- 
fjord,  via  Bolkesoe.  The  route  is  lined  with  wild 
flowers,  and  the  air  is  laden  with  fragrance.  Lakes 
and  torrents  are  peeping  through  every  covert. 
Rocks  v/hich  Titans  might  have  used  against  the 
gods  are  in  vast  confusion,  tumbled  all  about,  even 


MORE    MOUNTAIN  EXPERIENCES. 


171 


to  the  edge  of  our  wild  road.  The  Norway  ponies, 
however,  never  Hag.  In  fact,  they  are  too  impetu- 
ous and  require  the  "  B-ii-r-r-r-r-r — r-r" — !  of  the 
driver  to  call  a  halt  at  the  base  of  the  hill.  We  meet  no 
persons  on  this  route.  We  stop  occasionall)'  to  feed 
the  horses  at  some  cabin,  which  we  enter  and  survey. 
All  these  peasants  know  about  America.  They  take 
pains  to  let  us  know  that  they  have  evidences  of  our 
continent.  Some  look  up  letters  from  their  relatives 
and  friends,  and  display  them  with  pride.  The  floors 
of  these  cabins  are  sprinkled  with  bits  of  spruce,  and 
as  they  are  trampled  upon  give  forth  a  pleasant  fra- 
grance. Even  in  the  rudest  of  them,  small  photo- 
graphs of  Tidemand's  Norwegian  pictures  are  on  the 
wall.  The  children  are,  without  exception,  shy  "tow- 
heads,"  and  their  costume  is  as  meagre  as  that  of 
their  mother's  is  ornate.  The  women  are  always 
busy,  and  when  not  spinning  at  the  old  wheel  are 
weedinof  in  their  gardens. 

In  the  afternoon  we  arrive  at  Bolkesoe.  Here 
we  find  other  characteristics,  but  quite  exemplary  as 
to  the  morality  and  traits  of  this  good  people.  Com- 
ing over  a  savage  ridge  of  mountains,  we  obtain  a 
glimpse  of  two  lakes,  Bolkesoe  and  Fol-vSoe.  They 
are  not  connected,  yet  they  are  within  a  few^  hundred 
yards  of  each  other;  but  the  latter  is  three  hundred 
feet  lower  than  the  former.  They  are  surrounded  by 
a  superb  cordon  of  mountains;  but  it  is  the  human 
nature  which  attracts  us  here.  As  we  drive  up  to  a 
low  curious  building  of  antique  pattern,  we  are  met 
by  none  other  than  Ole  Bolkesoe  himself.  He  is  a 
lethargic  man,  with  black  moustache  and  a  red  skull 
cap.  He  is  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  of  slow^  and 
sanctimonious  speech  and  manner.  He  bids  us  enter. 
We  are  not  much  in  altitude,  but  we  stoop  to  enter 


172  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  low  door.  The  interior  would  be  appreciated  as 
picturesque  by  Jans  Steen  or  Wouverman.  It  is 
thoroughly  Dutch.  Bureau,  cupboard  and  old  cab- 
inets, are  oddly  painted  in  colors,  once  gay,  but  now 
subdued.  An  old-fashioned  mangle  hangs  against 
the  wall.  The  silver  trinkets  and  heirlooms  are  un- 
hesitatingly shown.  Pottery  and  plate  hang  in  rows 
about  the  room,  which  is  a  cross  between  the  office 
of  an  Indiana  justice  of  the  peace  and  a  Methodist 
preacher's  study,  with  the  relics  of  a  couple  of  cen- 
turies of  rural  Norse  domesticity  scattered  about  in 
festive  disorder. 

My  first  attack  in  this  curious  room  is  upon  the 
mantel.  There,  some  Bibles  and  prayer  books,  in 
Norse,  repose.  Opening  the  former,  I  begin  to  read 
in  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Romans;  and  remember- 
ing the  English  unrevised  text,  the  similarity  of 
the  lanouaees  interested  me.  Father  Ole  Bolkesoe 
watches  me  out  of  one  corner  of  his  eye. 

He  asks  our  guide  in  Norse:  "Is  he  a  priest?" 

When  informed  that  I  was  only  a  Congressman,  he 
rushed  to  his  docket  or  register,  and  with  great  de- 
light shows  the  names  of  U.  S.  Grant  and  wife, 
our  Consul  Gaade,  and  the  Prince  of  Monte  Negro. 
They  had  honored  his  inn.  This  was  a  compliment, 
which  was  appreciated.  I  asked  him  if  he  himself 
were  not  a  member  of  the  Storthing  (Congress). 
He  said  that  his  father  had  been,  many,  many 
years  ago.  This  was  our  bond  of  confidence.  Then, 
he  began,  in  lugubrious  monotone,  to  deplore  the 
state  of  politics  and  religion  in  all  the  nations  of 
the  world.      He  was  evidently  a  pessimist. 

"Ah,  sir,  it  is  a  miserable  epoch!  the  world  is 
corrupted !  Even  your  own  President  is  shot,  and 
the  Lord's  anointed  on  this   continent   is   not  safe. 


MORE    MOUNTAIN   EXPERIENCES. 


^73 


There  is  too  mucli  dynamite  and  lil)crty,  too 
miicli !  " 

Thus  speaking"  he  turned  the  seven  vials  of  his 
wrath  upon  Professor  Bjin-nsterne  Bjornson,  the 
gifted  poet,  writer  and  orator  of  Cornell  Univer- 
sity, and  who  is  now  in  Norway,  attracting  its  peo- 
ple to  his  peculiar  tenets  of  faith  and  republican 
theories. 

"  Why  does  he  not  let  us  in  Norway  remain  in 
peace  ?  "  exclaimed  our  host.  "  Why  does  he  not  go 
back  to  your  country,  since  he  likes  its  institutions  so 
much  ?  Why  make  our  simple  folk  discontented  ? 
He  even  attacks  our  religion;  he  is  an  atheist;  but  he 
has  no  business  to  preach;  only  theologians  should 
preach." 

Here  the  conservative  relio-ionist  of  the  fanatical 
type  burst  out  of  his  deliberative  rhetoric,  until  our 
guide  himself  is  carried  away,  and  exclaims:  "Ja!  ja! 
Everybody  can  preach  in  America,  but  we  have  in 
our  countries  //w/Zr*^  constitutions!  In  America  you 
do  everything  you  wish."  The  hearty  assent  of  these 
good  people  to  this  proposition  suppressed  me  utterly, 
especially  as  I  had  to  dig  through  two  languages  to 
make  reply. 

Yet  I  could  not  but  admire  this  staunch  Lutheran, 
who  would  not,  though  an  angel  spoke,  depart  from 
his  ancient  highways.  My  wife  asked  him  how  near 
was  his  church;  he  replied,  twenty-two  miles.  He 
had  given  evidence  of  his  sincerity  by  regular  attend- 
ance at  this  church  every  Sunday,  year  after  year. 
He  is  an  illustration  of  that  pious  conservatism  which 
believes  that  a  lonsf  Norwegian  nio^ht  is  better  than 
mid-day  in  Elysium.  He  accepts  many  of  the  super- 
stitions of  old  Norway.  He  accepts  all  the  tales  of 
trolls,  and  the  stories  of  vikings  and  basekers.     He  is 


174  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

orthodox,  and  believes  in  devils.  He  believes  in 
the  Necs,  or  sprites  of  the  waters,  who  arise  at  night 
and  piteously  wail  over  their  liquid  graves,  as  their 
favorite  star  keeps  watch  over  them.  He  ignores 
not  the  Hiilder  who  dances  unseen  with  the  peasants 
at  the  chalets  of  the  summer  mountain  farms,  with 
cow  and  kid,  goat  and  lamb,  to  the  tune  of  the  Har- 
danger  fiddle.  He  takes  forces  for  fairies.  He  will 
not  disturb  the  stones  on  his  farms,  left  by  his  ances- 
tors; and  he  uses  the  same  old  crooked  stick  with  an 
iron  spike  instead  of  a  plough,  for  stony  ground.  He 
believes  in  the  monsters  of  the  air,  shore  and  lake. 
How  could  he  accept  geology,  when  there  were  Jo- 
tuns  "  in  those  days,"  with  Atlantian  shoulders  to 
pry  apart  rocks  and  hoist  mountains  ?  If  he  were 
not  a  bachelor,  doubtless  the  air  around  his  romantic 
home  would  be  peopled  with  the  pystings — -ghosts 
of  babes  who  flit  and  wail  for  their  lost  mothers  in 
the  stormy  winters  and  under  auroral  skies.  But 
bachelor  or  not,  he  believes,  doubtless,  in  the  old 
serpent  of  Miosen  Lake,  in  its  entire  length  and  in 
its  unfathomable  watery  home.  He  accepts  as  verity 
the  great  Kraken,  whose  appearance  and  movement 
about  Salten  Fjord  he  will  not  accept  as  a  mirage  of 
meteorology.  Who  would  disturb  such  placid  and 
pious  conservatism  ?  Let  the  planets  go  around  in 
their  orbits;  let  comets  display  their  fearful  hair  and 
magnificent  tails,  "  perplexing  nations  " ;  but  to  this 
Norse  gudeman,  God  is  God  and  Luther  is  his  proph- 
et. When  he  dies,  let  there  be  an  old  oak-tree  over 
his  Bauta  stone  monument,  with  a  runic  epitaph. 

I  glanced  about  his  room  and  bed,  with  its  sheep- 
skin coverlets,  hidden  in  the  alcove,  and  there,  over 
its  portals,  were  the  mottoes  which  illustrate  his 
life.     Such  mottoes  I  had  seen  in  the  homely  dwell- 


MORE    MOUNTAIN  EXrERIENCES.  lyr 

ing-s  of  the  Nortliliincl.  At  tlic  Gaards,  or  farm 
centres,  you  will  find,  as  we  found  in  Holland  in  the 
dairies,  suspended  on  the  wall,  maxims  expressing 
the  simple  faith  of  this  Norman  blood.  There  is  one 
motto  common  in  Norway  and  carved  around  this 
room  of  Ole  Bolkesoe,  and  which  he  pointed  at,  as 
his  rule  of  daily  conduct: 

"Naar  vi  i^iiaar  rind;  naar  vi  gaar  ud; 
Da  tacnk  paa  os,  O  miUic  Gut !  "  * 

Another  motto  we  see.  It  is  worthy  of  a  Trap- 
pist  cloister:  "  Go  to  bed  and  slumber!  Reflect  now 
\Bctcnk  diL  nu  /)  that  it  may  be  thy  last  sleep." 

I  called  this  conservative  friend  Father  Bolkesoe. 
He  is,  in  fact,  a  bachelor,  though  a  father  in  the  Es- 
tablished Church.  Five  of  his  sisters  are  married  and 
live  in  the  little  village  which  bears  their  name.  He 
gallants  us  to  one  of  their  homes.  There  we  find 
English-speaking  Norwegians,  just  arrived  for  rest 
and  recreation.  One  of  the  number  has  been  to 
Washineton  and  recognizes  the  writer,  and  so  I  am 
welcomed  as  an  American.  One  of  our  companions  in 
travel,  we  hear,  is  quartered  in  the  loft  of  the  house.  He 
turns  out  to  be  the  Dean  of  the  faculty  of  Christiania 
University.  Dr.  Monrad  is  an  old  and  honored  schol- 
ar, whose  book  on  philosophy  has  just  been  printed  in 
Norwegian  and  German.  We  are  allowed  to  visit 
him.  We  find  him  readinof  the  third  Book  of  Homer 
in  Greek,  and  his  wife  readino;  Walter  Scott's  Ivan- 
hoc  in  Norwegian.  After  some  courtesies  and  much 
chaffing  about  my  favorite  Greek,  Thersites,  and  a 
discussion  about  the  Hoincridac,  we  interchange  a 
talk  on  philology.     He  informs  me  that  he  learned 

*  "  When  we  go  in;  when  we  go  out; 
Then  think  of  us,  O  merciful  God  !  " 


176  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

his  English  from  books,  but  that  he  had  no  trouble, 
even  before  he  learned  it,  to  understand  a — Scotch- 
man !  In  fact,  to  us,  his  English  had  a  Scotch  patois, 
that  sounded  as  musical  as  it  was  canny.  The  blood 
relation  of  the  old  languages  comes  out  on  both  sides 
of  the  Scotch  border,  as  he  expounds  his  experience. 
He  dilates  upon  the  resemblance  between  the  oldest 
and  purest  English,  like  that  spoken  in  the  "  Lake 
Country "  and  the  Norse  tongue.  Norse  is  the 
tongue  of  Denmark  as  well  as  of  Norway.  Our 
courier  speaks  both  alike — being  a  Dane — ^so  that 
the  Norse  people  think  that  he  is  one  of  them.  The 
vowels  are  sounded  differently:  Par  example,  the 
word  Brunt  in  English,  is  Brat  in  Norse;  Fell  in 
English,  is  field,  a  block  of  mountains;  Heam  or 
Yahni,  is  our  Home,  and  in  Norse  it  is  Hjem; 
Holm  is  a  small  island  in  both  languages;  Kilt  is 
in  Norse,  Kytl,  a  sJiirt,  from  which  our  Kirtle;  and 
our  word  slip  or  slippery,  has  its  counterpart  in  the 
Norse  sleep,  etc.  The  word  Bonde  is  indicative  of 
a  tie — a  bond,  philologically  and  otherwise.  When 
the  peasant,  or  "  Bonde  " — gets  wells  enough  off  to 
build  or  buy  a  house — he  is  a  husbonde !  Vet 
Kommen!  is  a  gentle  word  needing  no  translation. 
The  Swedish  language,  not  only  has  the  same  con- 
struction as  the  English,  but  the  sounds  are  nearly 
similar:  Our  "Good  day"  is  Swedish  ''God  dag;" 
our  "  Come,  father!"  is  Swedish  "  A^;;2  y^zr;  "  Eng- 
lish "much  the  best,"  is  in  Swedish  ''Ala  bast;" 
"  I  have  given  to  the  father,"  is  in  Swedish  "  J'ag' 
liar  g  if  vet  at  fadre?i."  In  these  examples  the  Swe- 
dish, which  is  more  German  than  English,  is,  how- 
ever, kith  and  kin  to  the  Norse.  Upon  the  vessel, 
as  we  sailed,  how  familiar  seemed  the  words:  "La 
go!"   Let  go!   or  " Koni  og  se!"   Come  and  see! 


MORE    MOUNTAIN   EXPERIENCES.  177 

This  language  is  still  spoken  in  the  Orkneys.  It  is 
also  used  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  which  was  ruled  by 
Norway  until  a.  d.  1266.  The  assemblies  in  these 
islands  are  called  Things,  the  same  as  in  Iceland  and 
in  the  Shetlands. 

No  wonder  our  learned  professor  says  that  he 
can  understand  the  EnoHsh  of  a  Scotchman  or  of 
the  "  Lake  "  country  better  than  that  of  an  Ameri-' 
can  or  a  Londoner. 

Besides,  if  we  seek  for  the  sources  of  our  mosaic 
language,  we  need  not  go  further  back  than  the  era 
of  the  Roman  Conquest  of  Britain.  We  then  and 
there  find  the  characteristics  of  the  Celtic  race  and 
dialects.  They  came  to  Britain  originally  from  far- 
off  Phoenicia  and  Judea,  the  Orient,  in  fact,  and  later 
from  Southwestern  Europe.  They  were  modified  by 
climates,  airs  and  aliments.  Drought  and  moisture, 
heat  and  cold  affected  tones  and  even  muscles.  This 
language  remained,  however,  for  four  centuries. 
Then  came  Goth,  Hun  and  other  northern  tribes. 
They  sought  milder  climates  over  the  sea,  and  bore 
with  their  conquering  arms  a  tough  tongue  and  a 
rude  courao-e.  Frank  and  Norman  fixed  their  habits 
and  laneua^e  on  the  Celtic  stock.  Anorlo-Saxons 
and  Frisians,  leaving  the  coast,  from  the  Zuyder  Zee 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Elbe,  joined  with  the  Norse  or 
Danish  element,  and  gave  to  the  Celtic  its  Gothic 
graft,  and  left  it  with  the  leading  lineaments  of  ou.^ 
present  language. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

NORWAY  — ITS  OLD  CHURCHES  AND  .ESTHETICS  — LAWS  AND 

MANNERS. 

"  Theirs  was  a  greatness 
Got  from  their  Grandsires; 
Theirs  that  so  often  in 
Strife  with  their  enemies. 
Struck  for  their  hoards,  and  their  hearths  atid  their  homes." 

Battle  of  Brunanburgh. 

BUT  we  have  no  time  for  the  science  and  humors 
of  philology.  '' Hest  Strax/"  "Horse  imme- 
diate!" we  cry,  and  the  good  host,  Ole,  is  at  the 
door  to  shake  our  hands,  and,  must  I  say  it,  with  his 
eyes  moist,  in  kindly  farewells,  he  bids  us,  God 
speed !  Down  our  ponies  rattle,  until  the  "  Tind 
Sea  "  greets  the  eye  under  the  evening  sun.  In  ad- 
dition to  other  berries  and  multiform  and  multitudi- 
nous flowers,  we  find  the  loncr-sou^ht  Alulteboer.  It 
is  in  great  demand,  and  tastes  like  our  mulberry, 
only  it  is  in  shape  like  the  raspberry.  When  beaten 
into  a  mass,  creamed  and  sugared,  it  is  a  dainty  dish. 
There  is  a  law  which  forbids  any  one  to  gather  more 
than  he  or  she  can  reasonably  consume.  It  is  used 
to  make  jam,  and  we  find  it  at  the  railway  stations, 
in  eaofer  demand. 

A  few  stoppages,  a  glance  into  cabins  where 
black  wool  is  being  carded  and  spun  by  barefooted 
females,  and  along  a  road  heavy  with  sand  and  wild 
with  moss-covered  rocks,  the  debris  of  earthquakes 
that  have  shattered  these  huge  mountains  of  gneiss 
and  the  haunts  of  bears,  lynxes  and  foxes, — and  we 
are  at  Tinoset  by  the  lake.     Here  we  begin  to  fish 


NOA'irAV  cm: h- CUES  and  .kstiiktics. 


179 


from  a  boat  at  i  i  i".  m.,  with  a  patent  float,  whicli 
carries  a  lon"f  line,  and  six  otlier  lines — a  sort  of 
movintj^  trout  line  with  flies.  It  makes  a  wide  sweep 
until  we  near  tl  foss  and  a  boom.  We  call  a  halt, 
and  haul  in — one  trout!  This  feebly  assists  our 
breakfast,  and  after  it,  we  are  off  toward  the  east 
side  of  the  Orvallo,  a  timber-laden  torrent,  to  one 
of  our  main  points — the  Hitterdal. 

This  dale  has  its  church  and  this  church  has  its 
traditions.  It  is  an  odd  edifice,  unlike  any  other 
church.  We  make  our  pilgrimage  to  this  shrine 
through  heat  and  dust,  not  to  speak  of  flies,  and 
suffer  the  first  warm  day  during  the  entire  summer, 
and  that  at  about  seventy-five  degrees.  This  church 
is  so  grotesque  that  nothing  but  a  picture  of  it  will 
satisfy  the  description.  There  are  only  three  like  it, 
in  this  Northland.  It  is  timber  built,  of  Norwegian 
pine,  and  almost  black  as  if  charred  by  fire.  It  has 
had  seven  hundred  years  of  sacred  life.  Its  porti- 
cos, steep  roofs,  gables,  angles  and  pinnacle  would 
worry  a  devout  Mohammedan,  Greek  or  Christian 
to  make  out  its  unities.  A  belfry  stands  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  road,  and  a  cemetery  surrounds  it. 
The  latter  is  full  of  monuments  and  bouquets,  but  it 
is  not  in  such  repair  as  we  should  expect  from  our 
observations  of  the  graveyard  at  Trondhjem.  We 
notice  an  inscription  on  the  tombs:  "-Fred  med 
dit  stov.  The  last  word  suggests  "  ashes."  There 
is  a  church  at  Borgund,  pictures  of  which  I  have 
seen,  of  the  same  style  and  age  as  this  curious  relic 
of  Thelemark.  It,  too,  has  its  bell-tower  detached, 
and  its  odd  gables  and  pinnacles.  It  is  covered  with 
shingles  lapping  over  each  other  like  the  scales  on  a 
fish.  It  has  runic  inscriptions  and  quaint  carv- 
ings upon  the  round  arch  and  half  circular  apse 
Its  curious   interior   reminds   one   of  the    Byzantine 


i8o 


FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 


HlTTERbAL  CHUkCH,    NORWAY. 


Style.  Architects  trace  analogous  structures  to  India 
and  Thibet,  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  Norwegians 
returning  from  Russia  in  the  early  ages,  may  have 
borne  its  model  from  Moscow.  Of  course,  tradition 
attributes  its  erection  to  St.  Olaf,  and  if  everything 
that  is  said  of  him  be  true,  he  was  just  the  genius 
for  such  a  medley. 

We  obtain  the  key  from  the  pastor  and  enter. 
It  is  quite  interesting  to  find  in  a  Protestant  Church, 
and  in  Norway,  a  Catholic  Bishop's  chair  with  quaint 
carvings  of  the  elder  time.  Here,  too,  are  rude 
pictures  of  saint  and  Saviour,  coming  down  from  the 


NOA'U'AY   CHURCHES    AND    .ESTHETICS.  l8l 

twelfth  century.  But  what  cliicll)'  attracts  is  an  old 
Bible.  It  is  of  1633,  a  present  froni  the  Olafsen 
family,  whose  graves  are  plentiful  outside.  The 
blank  leaves  are  written  over  with  injunctions  to 
preserve  the  Book  as  the  surest  test  of  the  worth 
of  the  precious  truths  it  contains.  Behind  it  arc; 
two  large  candles  upon  an  old  altar.  Inside  of 
the  lids  of  this  old  book,  are  pictures  of  Adani 
and  Eve,  Moses  and  Aaron,  Noah,  the  ark  and  the 
dove,  Abraham,  Isaac  and  the  fagots,  and  David  and 
his  harp.  The  book  is  printed  at  Copenhagen,  is 
dedicated  to  Christian  IV.,  King  of  Denmark  and 
Norway,  and  of  the  Goths  and  Vandals,  Duke  of 
Schleswiof-Holstein,  and  Count  of  various  counties. 
The  motto  everywhere  seen  in  Norway,  Rcguajinnal 
Pidas,  is  visible  on  the  preface,  while  the  text,  ex- 
quisitely neat,  large  and  plain,  has  a  mode  of  punc- 
tuation like  that  in  chants.  The  book  of  Revelations 
is  especially  grotesque  in  illustrations;  for  every  bird, 
fish,  drasfon  and  bewilderino^  thincf  on,  above  or 
under  earth,  is  represented  in  the  picturesque  visions 
of  the  seer  of  Patmos.  This  singular  church  is  lit  by 
square,  yellowish  panes  of  glass.  The  light  falls  upon 
yellow  pine  pe\vs,  and  the  pillars  are  of  yellow  oak. 
Yellow  seems  to  be  the  normal  color  of  Norway. 
Is  it  not  found  in  the  colors  of  its  national  flag  ? 
Does  not  every  little  one  whom  we  meet,  have  a 
head  of  healthy  saffron, — Norse  buttercups,  blossom- 
insf  for  America  and  the  erave  ?  Their  flaxen  curls, 
— are  they  not  wooing  the  winds  of  our  far-oft  Da- 
kota, and  laughing  in  concord  with  our  Minnehaha 
Foss?  Do  not  yellow  bandanas  decorate  the  heads 
of  the  mature  matrons,  who  nurse  and  watch  them  ? 
Are  not  the  brides  of  Thelemarken,  married  with 
golden   crowns   upon   their   heads  ?      Have   not    the 


1 82  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

flowers  yellow  as  their  prevailing  tint  ?  Do  we  not 
see  everywhere  the  little  yellow  moss  flower,  and  the 
yellow  Marguerite,  so  unique,  lining  the  roadside  and 
decorating  the  meadows  ?  Even  the  homely  dande- 
lion lifts  its  harmless  gold,  higher  and  with  a  prouder 
air  than  with  us !  The  large  double  buttercup,  like 
unto  a  chromatella  rose,  is  it  not  found  in  profusion 
here,  and  does  it  not  indicate,  without  the  presence 
of  the  garish  sunflower,  advancement  in  the  aesthetic 
tendencies  of  human  and  physical  Norse  nature  ? 

As  a  climax,  was  not  the  chariot  of  old  Thor  him- 
self, as  he  came  out  of  the  North,  with  raised  ham- 
mer and  lightning  flashes,  displayed  in  the  orange 
hues  of  the  Aurora;  and  the  prolific  goddess  of  the 
generations  of  men — Freia — (not  our  unlucky  Fri- 
day, though  named  after  her),  is  she  not  painted  by 
the  brush  of  Ollsen  Blommer,  as  yellow-haired,  with 
her  seven  yellow-haired  babies,  all  swinging  to  her 
yellow  vehicle,  drawn  by  yellow  cats,  which  are 
driven  over  a  saffron  cloud  in  the  richest  hues  of  a 
heaven  of  gold  ?  Who  says  that  yellow  is  not  na- 
tive to  the  Norseland  ?  If  our  navigators  ever  find 
the  North  Pole,  they  will  find  it  radiant  with  the 
auriferous  hues  of  the  unsetting  orb.  If  a  laureate 
is  wanted  for  this  land  of  ancient  Skalds,  Oscar  Wilde 
should  be  nominated,  as  the  lyrical  trustee  of  its 
beauty  and  the  aesthetic  bard  of  its  heroism. 

Now  and  then  as  in  the  old  paintings  in  this  Hit- 
terdal  church,  we  find  the  Saviour  in  red  garments, 
emd  the  altar  of  the  same  color,  but  the  sacred  cross 
is  yellow,  and  the  sun  which  gilds  with  its  mild,  pen- 
sive beauty  this  singular  structure,  has  its  evening 
radiance,  whose  splendid  topaz  is  reflected  in  a  gold- 
en setting  that  stains  pew  and  altar  within  and  the 
stran2;-e  edifice  without,  with  its  dim  relieious  liofht ! 


NORWAY    CHURCHES    AKD    ^ESTHETICS.  183 

A  few  miles  more  and  we  are  at  the  comfortable 
hotel  at  the  village  of  Hitterdal.  The  Foss  here  is 
rare,  but  we  are  tired  of  fosses.  Our  afternoon  route 
lies  over  the  Meheria  ranije,  from  which  a  continu- 
ous  view  is  presented  of  all  this  mountain  land. 
From  the  mountain  above  the  mines  and  descend- 
ing into  the  rural  valley  where  Kongsburg  appears, 
we  cannot  but  notice  the  beauty  of  the  fir-trees,  in 
branch  and  stem.  They  have  a  lilac  shade,  and 
their  apples  have  the  same  tinge;  while  fringing  the 
branches  with  their  delicate  young  cones,  is  a  green 
which  is  too  dainty  for  ink  to  portray. 

Completing  our  circuit  we  reach  Kongsburg  be- 
fore dark,  happy  again  to  be  in  our  old  rooms,  and 
repose  after  our  exciting  and  delightful  tour.  Here 
we  are  on  the  rail  route  to  Drammen,  a  commercial 
town,  made  beautiful  by  bridges  and  villas,  and  opu- 
lent by  valleys  and  mills,  and  through  gardens  and 
grain  lands  we  reach  Christiania. 

In  these  mountain  excursions  I  could  not  but  re- 
mark that  these  people  are  simplicity  itself.  They 
take  all  you  say  for  absolute  verity,  and  that  puts 
you  on  your  caution  in  talking.  They  open  their 
secrets  to  you  on  short  acquaintance.  One  of  the 
young  ladies  of  the  group  I  met  in  the  mountains, 
when  I  suggested  a  cavalier — was  frank  to  say  she 
was  "  engaged  " — -forlovet,  a  pretty  word.  It  is  not 
uncommon  to  hear  your  appearance  dilated  upon 
under  your  own  eye;  and  you  are  expected  to  swal- 
low, with  your  salmon  and  flat  bread,  all  the  compli- 
ments. No  one  was  taking  the  census  in  these 
mountains,  but  I  had  the  questions  asked  me:  "  How 
old  are  you?"  "Is  your  mother  living  ?  "  "How 
old  is  she  ?  " 

As  we  enter  this  capital,  to  which  we  have  be- 


1 84  FROM   POLE     TO    PYRAMID. 

come  attached  by  a  long  sojourn,  the  wide  streets 
and  park  seem  to  have  been  newly  dressed  in  sum- 
mer vesture.  The  statue  of  the  national  poet  Werge- 
land,  midway  between  the  palace  and  the  parliament, 
looks  up  in  tender  grace  to  the  arched  heaven,  whence 
ne  drew  so  much  inspiration. 

We  confess  to  a  desire  to  see  the  legislative  bod- 
ies abroad.  In  the  North,  legislatures  are  called 
Things.  I  do  not  enter  into  the  philology  of  the 
word,  nor  do  I  mean  to  say  that  it  is  an  opprobrious 
epithet.  But  it  is  curious  to  know,  how  often  these 
TJiings  entered  into  the  early  annals  of  the  North. 
When  Olaf's  son,  Hacon,  beo^an  to  convert  the  hea- 
then  Northmen,  he  called  a  Parliament,  and  he  called 
it — a  Thing!  He  ordered  them  to  be  Christians; 
but,  like  other  orders,  from  headquarters,  the  Bon- 
der, or  peasants,  disobeyed.  When  Olaf  Tryggvesen, 
his  son,  began  the  same  business,  he  summoned 
Things,  and  sent  in  his  messages  to  them:  "  Believe 
or  die ' "  This  kind  of  conversion  did  not  stay. 
Then  in  a.  d.,  ioi5,  Olaf  Harerdson,  the  saint,  be- 
Sfan.  His  character  is  rather  ambig-uous;  but  he 
sowed  the  seed  which  bore  fruit.  He  was  buried 
in  three  coffins — the  inner  one  of  silver  and  the 
others  of  gold  and  precious  stones. 

How  can  I  reproduce  the  source  of  Norwegian 
law  and  liberty,  or  rather  the  edifices  which  are  the 
symbols  and  home  of  that  spirit  which  has  made  Nor- 
way great,  even  under  its  adverse  circumstances  of 
climate  and  soil,  without  looking  at  "■Things'" ?  On 
our  return  to  the  capital — we  visited  the  Storthing. 
before  it  adjourned  for  the  summer;  in  fact,  we  were 
present  at  the  ceremony  of  its  final  adjournment. 
It  was  very  ceremonious;  and  had  not  the  gushing 
"  good- by  "  wherewithal  we  Solons  of  Congress,  are 


NOA-IVAV    CHURCHES    AM)    .KSIII h.TlCS.  1S5 

wont  to  separate.  Its  members  were  men  of  plain 
and  simple  ways;  antl  in  the  speeches  to  which  we 
listened,  the  fire  of  freedom,  ahnost  to  the  verge  of 
independence  of  Sweden  and  Kino-  Oscar,  was 
plainly  discernible.  The  parliament  building  is  of 
yellowish  brick.  It  is  quite  as  imposing  as  the 
palace,  which,  a  half  mile  distant,  it  faces. 

Other  nations  need  not  envy  the  historic  career 
of  Norway,  or  of  Scandinavia.  Its  history  has  had 
its  vicissitudes,  not  as  volcanic  as  Spain,  nor  as  rev- 
olutionary as  France;  but  still  at  times  it  has  been 
torn  by  wars,  as  well  between  its  parts,  as  with  for- 
eign powers. 

Yet  Norway  is  well  governed,  and  most  econom- 
ically. It  has  an  educational  system,  which  is  gen- 
eral and  compulsory.  Its  literature  has  been  adorned 
by  poets  and  scientists,  and  its  university  is  well 
ordered  and  thriving.  Whatever  may  be  said  as  to 
its  natural  disadvantages, — its  very  forests,  with  their 
spruce,  birch,  oak  and  aspen  and  its  fisheries  of  cod, 
link  and  haddock — with  their  codliver-oil  and  stock- 
fish, are  sources  of  wealth,  through  the  persistent  in- 
dustry of  the  people.  These  fisheries  catch  sprats 
and  whales,  tusk  and  trout;  in  river  and  ocean,  in 
fjord  and  torrent;  by  line  and  steam,  by  net  and 
spear.  They  employ  its  hardy  men,  from  Spitzber- 
gen  to  Bergen,  with  the  herring  harvest  headquar- 
ters at  the  latter  place,  and  there  are  realized  some 
fifteen  millions  of  dollars  annually !  Agriculture  has 
its  potato  fields  in  abundance,  its  patches  of  rye  and 
barley  and  its  few  and  precarious  pastures;  but  the 
people  are  not  discontented,  even  when  they  emi- 
grate to  the  mountains  to  summer  their  little  herds, 
or  to  America,  where  the  prospect  enlarges  before 
their  old    Norse  energy  and   adventure.     Iron   and 


1 86  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

copper  in  some  quantities  they  have;  and  great  use 
has  Norway  made  of  them;  but,  after  all,  the  people, 
even  in  their  most  indigent  condition  and  on  the 
barest  mountains  and  fjords,  are  happy. 

"  Why,  then,  do  they  emigrate  ?  "  It  is  not  owing 
to  their  laws — for  their  laws  are  equal  and  taxation 
is  light.  There  are  no  poor  rates.  The  farmers  sup- 
port the  aged  and  infirm.  It  is  not  owing  to  their 
annexation  to  Sweden  under  a  King,  for  the  annex- 
ation is  a  rope  of  sand,  and  the  King  has  not  half 
the  power  of  our  President.  Is  it  because  of  their 
internal  administration  ? 

While  its  police  system,  or  internal  government, 
is  not  rigid,  it  is  by  no  means  lax.  As  nearly  as  I 
can  determine,  Norway  is  divided  into  twenty  prov- 
inces, called  aniter,  each  under  an  amtand,  governor 
or  prefect,  responsible  to  and  appointed  by  the  cen- 
tral authority.  Under  him  are  two  sets  of  officers, 
ihe/o^ed  and  sorcuskriver.  The  last  is  a  judge,  civil 
and  criminal,  and  the  number  of  judges  is  increased 
according  to  the  needs  of  the  province.  No  local 
magistracy  is  required,  as  this  judge  answers  all  pur- 
poses. He  has  his  sheriff,  or  foged,  and  the  sehns- 
mand  belonging  to  each  parish,  which  are  like  our 
constables.  These  latter  are  police,  auctioneers,  and 
are  generally  useful.  The  army  is  a  militia,  and,  its 
officers  are  permanent.  They  are  only  in  service  a 
part  of  the  time. 

We  see  marks  or  boards  put  up  along  the  high- 
ways. We  inquire  their  utility.  They  are  not  mile 
marks,  but  boundary  lines  between  parishes — a  re- 
ligious division.  Each  division  has  its  head  church 
and  others  scattered  about,  to  which  the  clergyman 
gives  his  attention.  The  country  store,  as  in  Amer- 
ica, is  an  institution,  as  much  so  as  the  church.     It  is 


NOKIVAV   CHURCHES    AXD    MSTHRTICS.  1S7 

called  Landhandlers;  not  that  they  handle  land,  1)ut 
ooods  for  the  landed  people.  The  peasants  are  called 
Bonder,  but  in  no  sense,  feudal  or  otherwise,  are  they 
in  bonds.  So  that  with  home  rule  and  honest  cen- 
tral administration,  the  question  recurs:  "  Why  do 
Norwegians  emigrate  ?  "  The  answer  which  has 
been  given  me  is  :  That  their  wages  are  so  low 
and  their  hopes  are  so  high  of  better  remuneration, 
that  they  seek  America,  even  in  their  contentment 
at  home,  to  better  their  condition,  so  as  to  have 
something  more  than  enough;  and  that,  we  know, 
is  assured  them  by  their  frugal,  intelligent,  honest 
and  industrious  lives  in  America. 

We  bid  farewell  to  this  land  of  old  romance,  night- 
less  days,  arctic  climes,  midnight  sun  and  good  peo- 
ple, with  reluctance.  Those  who  read  these  words 
may  themselves  be  prompted  to  follow  our  example 
and  summer  in  these  wild  mountains  and  wilder 
fjords,  and  receive  the  instruction  and  happiness 
which   Norway  affords. 

If  nothing  else  repays,  the  admiring  student  of 
nature  may  find  abundant  novelty  and  pleasure  in 
the  succession  of  beauties  and  sublimities  which  we 
are  allowed  to  see,  by  land  and  water  and  by  sea  and 
lake !  All  ways,  water  ways  especially,  bear  us  into 
the  very  midst  of  these  wonders  of  our  earth.  Gla- 
ciers that  are  endless,  at  least  not  surveyed  by  man; 
snows  that  never  melt;  waters  that  are  forever  tid- 
ing and  rushing;  clouds  never  empty  of  snow  or  rain, 
and  mountains  by  peaks,  by  ranges,  by  thousands, 
and  islands  by  thousands  that  are  mountains — was 
there  ever  such  a  weird  and  wondrous  land  ?  And 
the  Gulf  Stream  makes  it  tolerable  to  travel  hither  in 
summer,  and  also  in  winter,  when  the  borealis  has  its 
flickering  meteoric  splendors,  and  a  new  day  dawns 
with  its  wizzard  phenomena ! 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

SWEDEN— ITS  CAPITAL,  MUSEUMS  AND  MOUNDS. 

"  What  is  the  Scandinavian's  land ? 
Is  it  Svealand?  Is  it  Throndeland? 
Or  ivJicrc  the  blue  Sound's  wafers  play 
Round  Copenhagen,  fair  and  gay? 
Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes.     All,  all  is  Scandinavia." 

Old  Song. 

THIS  old  song-  hints  at  a  fact  which  may  exist, 
with  many  qualifications.  Sweden,  Norway 
and  Denmark,  have  one  tongue,  with  three  dialects. 
Good  old  English  is  Norsk.  It  is  the  Saga  lan- 
guage. The  German,  Dutch,  Swedish  and  modern 
Norsk  are  said  to  be  another,  though  a  kindred  dia- 
lect. The  English  and  German  are  both  from  the 
Norsk.  Sweden  grave  its  idiom  to  the  German;  and 
Denmark  and  Iceland  their  idiom  to  the  English. 
So  that  the  Norse  is  the  original  stock,  and  the  rest 
are  grafts.  Denmark,  Sweden  and  Norway  may 
form  a  triune  land;  and  while  one  blood,  one  hope 
and  one  destiny,  is  pretty  as  a  phrase  in  a  song, 
over  wine  and  beer,  it  does  not  signify  the  exact 
unity  that  pervades  Scandinavia.  Although  Sweden 
and  Norway  are  under  one  sovereign,  they  have  had 
many  old  wars  from  which  many  scars  remain,  with 
some  ancient  jealousy.  They  fought  each  other  very 
steadily  until  1603. 

The  Swedes  are  said  to  be  like  the  English,  in 
their  modes  of  thouijht  and  life;  and  the  Norweg^ians 


SWEDEN.  189 

like  the  Scotch.  There  is  some  truth  in  the  remark. 
The  scenery  of  each  land  bears  the  same  relation 
as  their  manners  and  virtues. 

Sweden  is  half  forest,  and  full  of  rivers  and  lakes. 
She  contains  about  two  thirds  of  the  population  of 
Scandinavia,  and  one  hundred  and  seventy  thousand 
of  its  two  hundred  and  ninety-two  thousand  square 
miles.  Norway  is  sea-coast  and  mountain;  and  the 
Swedes  sarcastically  say  of  its  people,  that  they  are 
"  only  fit  to  trade  horses  and  pack  fish." 

Doubtless  there  is  more  refinement  and  art  in 
Sweden,  and  more  simplicity  and  artlessness  in  Nor- 
wa}'.  The  latter  is  not  so  pretentious ;  and  the 
former  is  more  gay.  However,  with  but  few  differ- 
ences in  dialect  and  manners,  they  are,  after  all,  of 
one  blood. 

The  history  of  Sweden  is  of  more  interest  to 
Europe;  that  of  Norway  to  America.  Sweden  had 
in  her  line  of  statesmen,  soldiers  and  monarchs,  those 
who  left  the  impress  of  their  Gothic  footsteps  upon 
civilization,  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Mediterranean; 
and  in  her  present  dynasty  she  has  a  family  which 
bids  fair  to  perpetuate  royalty  in  other  lands. 

One  fourth  of  Scandinavia  lies  three  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  It  is  not,  therefore, 
more  than  three  thousand  feet  below  the  limit  of 
perpetual  snow.  There  is  a  gradual  rising  of  the 
land;  and  the  glacial  period  is  in  sure,  though  slow 
process  of  return.  This  however,  did  not  disturb 
our  plans.  We  had  boldly  studied  the  lay  of  Swedish 
land,  before  leaving  home,  with  a  view  to  avoid  any 
probable  rise,  and  especially,  to  avoid  the  long  ride  to 
the  Midnight  Sun  along  the  Norwegian  coast.  By  the 
steamer  from  Stockholm  up  the  Gulf  of  Bothnia,  one 
may  reach  Lulea.    It  is  at  the  top  of  the  Gulf,  and  not 


IQO  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

far  south  of  the  Arctic  Circle.  The  cost  of  the  travel 
is  a  dollar  a  day.  The  people  are  so  honest,  that 
when  they  leave  their  houses,  they  hang  up  the  key 
on  the  outside.  At  Lulea,  which  means  the  river 
Lule,  and  in  midsummer,  you  may  take  a  boat  up  the 
river,  which  runs  from  the  northwest.  There  are 
falls  upon  the  river;  and  portage  is  needed  around 
them,  and  horses  are  needed  to  make  connections. 
Thus  you  may  reach  almost  to  the  Norwegian  bor- 
der, and  see  the  lovely  Lapp  and  feel  the  festive 
mosquito.  Here,  amidst  chains  of  crystal  lakes,  and 
solitary,  snowy  mountainous  wastes,  you  may  enter 
the  mellifluously  sounding  village  of  Ouickjock.  It 
is  within  sight  in  clear  weather,  of  Sulitelma — the 
highest  mountain  of  Sweden,  and  not  far  from  the 
grandest  falls  of  Europe.  This  region  is  called  the 
Paradise  of  Lapland.  There  the  sun  at  setting  dis- 
plays its  richest  gold  and  crimson;  and  by  ascending 
a  mountain,  you  may  overcome  the  sphericity  of  the 
earth  so  far,  as  to  see  the  unsetting  sun  at  midnight. 
Comparing  the  glories  of  the  fjords  of  Norway,  with 
these  magnificent  inducements  of  Sweden,  we  chose 
the  former.  Sequences  have  vindicated  the  choice. 
Hence,  we  did  not  see  and  do  not  write  so  much  of 
Sweden,  as  of  Norway. 

It  was  not  our  intention  to  sojourn  long  in  Swe- 
den. We  had  seen  something  of  its  southern  por- 
tion; and  received  an  idea  of  that  peculiar  country, 
from  which  the  Goths  came,  and  from  which  they 
drove  out  the  Lapps,  in  early  days.  Besides,  we  did 
not  take  the  famous  Gotha-canal  route,  across  to 
Stockholm,  as  most  tourists  do.  Hence  we  have 
not  to  record  the  wonders  of  the  engineermg  or  the 
beauty  of  its  passes  and  waterfalls. 

Our  first  half  day's  ride  by  rail  took  us  to  the 


SWEDEN. 


191 


frontier  at  Charlottonberg.  There  we  rested,  and 
next  morning",  pursued  our  way,  reachini^  Stockholm 
late  at  night.  The  usual  views  from  the  cars, — the 
foaming-  Strammen,  the  lovely  lakes,  and  the  peculiar 
habits  of  the  people  keep  us  on  the  look-out.  We 
were  without  the  pale  of  ordinary  travel;  at  least,  we 
thought  so,  until  I  saw  leaping  into  the  compart- 
ment next  to  ours,  a  boy  of  twelve,  who  said  to  hi.s 
elderly  companion: 

"  Pile  in,  Pa!" 

"  Waltz  in  yourself,  child  !  " 

Then  I  knew  that  Young  and  Old  America  were 
en  route  in  Sweden. 

The  Custom  House  made  our  stay  over  night  on 
the  border  less  an  unpleasant  memory  than  our  hard 
beds.  There  was  no  hotel;  but  we  had  the  rare 
privilege — after  some  kronen  disbursed — to  lodge  all 
night  in  a  modest  bed,  of  such  narrowness  and  short- 
ness, that  the  two  furnished  made  it  worse.  Any 
one  next  morning  could  tell  I  was  born  in  Zanesville. 
Ohio;  for  my  zigzag  shape,  after  rest,  was  that  of  the 
letter  Z.  The  breakfast  at  the  depot  was  preceded, 
as  all  Swedish  meals  are,  by  the  usual  glass  of  po- 
tato, corn,  or  some  other  white  gin,  whiskey  or 
brandy.  I  took  a  glass  of  it — for  water — by  mis- 
take. The  Swedish  meal  is  peculiar.  It  is  worthy 
of  a  minute  description.  It  has  the  preliminary 
smorgasbord.  Our  word  "  smear,"  and  the  Swedish 
word  "  butter,"  {s)?wr),  are  the  same.  There  is  a 
side-board  laid  with  biscuit  and  butter,  smoked  sal- 
mon and  dried  reindeer.  This,  with  the  liquor,  is 
the  appetizer  for  the  broth,  salmon,  cutlets,  soles, 
beef  and  veal,  which  follow.  They  are  sometimes 
accompanied  with  a  salad  of  herring,  and  end  with 
whortleberry,  or  some   other  jam.     When   you  get 


192  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

tliroLigh,  you  may  desire  to  wash  out  its  memory, 
with  the  customary  aromatic  spirit.  You  will  do 
this  with  reluctance;  for  you  are  not  a  Swede.  The 
Swedes  drink  easy  and  often.  They  drink  when 
they  meet,  before  they  part,  and  then  have  a  fare- 
well skal.  This  is  the  word  for  basin;  and  basins 
were  the  fashion  after  the  enemy's  skull  went  out  as 
a  drinking  cup;  and  the  "horn  "  came  in.  The  aver- 
age consumption  of  ardent  liquor  in  Sweden  is  eight 
gallons  a  head,  per  annum.  The  English  drink  a  pint 
only,  where  a  Swede  will  drink  you  a  gallon.  Eat- 
ing and  drinking  form  a  large  portion  of  Swedish 
employment  and  hospitality.  They  do  both  without 
stint.  Many  a  hearty  custom  obtains  in  our  families 
which  has  come  from  the  rude  north;  and  not  the 
least  pleasing  custom,  is  that  of  the  gods,  who  used 
the  mythological  apples,  which  made  them  immortal, 
to  make  the  sauce  for  the  roast  pork  on  which  they 
feasted  in  Valhalla.  The  pork  was  supplied  by  a 
perpetual  pig  that  came  to  life  again,  next  morning, 
after  he  was  eaten ! 

Wedding  parties  on  the  cars,  loaded  with  wild 
flowers  in  lace  paper  holders,  and  giddy  with  glee, 
distract  our  attention  from  the  level,  cultivated  land- 
scape. Neat  red  and  yellow  stations,  ripening  grain, 
full  harvests,  birch-baskets  of  berries,  and  the  priv- 
ilege at  dinner  to  help  yourself,  without  a  servant, 
and  to  pay  your  own  score,  made  out  by  yourself, 
with  soldiers  and  officers,  chateaux  and  lakes,  shrub- 
bery around  elegant  houses,  canals  and  shipping, 
canals  and  commerce,  and  canals  and  islets, — make 
another  Holland,  with  Stockholm  for  its  Amster- 
dam and  the  hundred-isle  Malaren  for  the  Amstel. 
Swift  toy-tugs  ply  up  and  down  in  the  current  from 
early  evening  till  midnight,  before  our  hotel;  and  we 


SWEDEN.  193 

go  to  sleep  with  music  from  tlic  roystcrcrs  who  are 
making  fcHcity  in  the  long"  daylight. 

The  city  has  been  often  described.  It  is  founded 
on  many  islets.  The  river  is  swift  as  it  glides  by  our 
hotel  plaza,  whose  stony  quay  is  lined  by  fishermen. 
The  palace  is  opposite.  Cafes  and  gardens  betoken 
a  sumptuous  city.  The  parks  display  classic  foun- 
tains, and  bronzes  of  kingly  heroes. 

The  picture  of  Stockholm  from  the  balcony  of  our 
room,  on  the  third  floor  front  of  the  hotel,  is  deline- 
ated, by  the  acute  and  obtuse  angles,  which  limit  the 
water  and  wall,  palace  and  bridge;  and  is  only  curved 
when  you  glance  under  the  arches  of  the  bridges  and 
at  the  keels  of  the  steamers.  The  picture  at  ten  p.  m. 
is  not  unlike  that  of  Amsterdam  at  eight,  or  Venice 
at  six, — when  evening  is  drawing  her  curtain.  But 
what  a  life  is  here!  The  jingle  of  the  tramway  bells, 
turning  the  corner;  the  rattle  of  the  droskies  over 
the  pebbly  pave;  the  whistle  of  the  little  steamers, 
tugging  every  instant  across  our  vision;  and  the 
music  of  the  band  at  the  cafe,  across  the  stream,  in 
a  sort  of  rhythm  with  the  puffing  of  the  steamers  as 
they  come  and  go,  laden  with  human  freight.  All 
this  appeals  to  the  ear.  To  the  eye  there  is  as  pretty 
a  picture  of  the  dying  day  as  one  could  wish  of  a  city 
with  so  much  land  and  water.  On  the  left,  down 
the  open  plaza  or  bending  street,  which  is  both  wharf, 
promenade,  and  drive,  and  wide  enough  for  each, — 
decorated  with  unlit  lamp-posts, — is  the  museum,  a 
splendid  structure;  then  across  a  stream  is  a  clump 
of  trees,  with  a  tall  red  building,  where  the  marine 
department  sits  near  the  salt  sea.  Then  there  is  an 
elevated  city  beyond,  already  gaslit,  full  of  cafes, — a 
good  half-mile  away,  but  sweeping  around,  opposite 
and  across  the  main  river,  until  it  meets  the  palace. 


194  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

This  palace  is  itself  a  picture,  with  a  garden  in  front, 
and  high  steps  and  esplanades  on  two  sides  border- 
ing the  water,  across  which,  by  a  Rialto,  are  the 
ofrand  crrounds,  where  Stockholm  drinks  and  eats 
and  revels  in  music  nio^ht  after  nio-ht.  Across  an- 
other  bridge  of  several  arches,  and  the  eye  reaches 
the  open  plaza  or  street  upon  which  we  look  down 
from  our  eyrie.  Along  this  quay  are  steamboats, 
some  decorated  in  green  for  a  night  excursion,  some 
up  for  "  Cowes  and  a  market,"  and  all  as  neat  as  the 
pavement  of  a  Dutch  village.  Four  black  steeples, 
of  iron  and  perforated,  point  in  sharp  spires  to  the 
rosy  evening  sky,  while  the  people  are  moving  on 
both  sides  of  the  waters,  occasionally  stopping  to  see 
the  fishermen's  luck  in  the  swift  water.  Over  in  that 
venerable  pile,  which  we  have  visited,  repose  in 
crypt  and  porphyry,  the  Swedish  statesmen  and  sol- 
diers,— the  Gustavuses  and  Charleses  of  her  history, 
under  a  thousand  moth-eaten  or  bullet-holed  ensigns, 
and  beneath  granite  slabs,  which  in  vain  seek  to  pre- 
serve against  time,  the  emblems  of  their  rank  and 
descriptions  of  their  quality  !  Altogether  the  scene 
is  as  impressive  as  it  is  beautiful.  The  new  mu- 
seum is  near;  and  between  it  and  our  hotel  we  take 
a  first  glance  of  the  famous  belt-wrestlers. 

This  object  of  Northern  art  draws  my  eye,  not 
once  or  twice,  but  often,  as  I  pass  to  the  museum. 
It  represents  a  memorable  tradition,  of  the  Hailing 
province  in  Norway,  which  we  visited  a  fortnight 
ago.  The  peasants  of  that  locality  were  and  are 
celebrated  for  their  quick,  agile  and  robust  qualities. 
In  dancing  and  jumping,  they  have  no  peers.  Even 
in  their  dances,  they  leap  into  the  air,  to  a  music 
quite  in  character  with  the  wildness  of  the  mountain 
scenery.     Their  levity  is  feathery,  and  their  curves 


Hi:!.  l-WkKSlLKKS. 


SWEDEN. 


'95 


in  the  dance,  are  both  sing-ular  and  charming, — in  an 
acrobatic  sense.  These  peasants  are  excitable  and 
fierce;  at  least  they  were  so  some  years  ago.  Their 
savagery  appeared  in  the  duel  which  the  sculptor 
has  perpetuated.  What  the  group  represents,  the 
engraving  will  explain.  It  is  the  masterpiece  of  Mo- 
lin,  the  talented  Swedish  sculptor.  The  combatants 
are  bound  together  around  the  waist  by  a  leather 
band  heavily  buckled, — the  knives  being  covered  up 
to  a  certain  distance.  This  distance  is  decided  by 
the  opponents.  The  struggle  between  them  is  to 
the  fatal  end.  The  sides  of  the  pedestal  of  the  mon- 
ument is  said  to  represent:  ist.  Two  peasants  drink- 
ing at  a  table;  a  peasant-girl,  the  sweetheart  of  one 
of  them,  is  filling  their  glasses;  an  allegorical  snake 
is  ejecting  the  venom  hate  into  the  glass  of  the  other. 
2d.  The  holder  of  the  poisoned  glass  seizes  the  young 
girl  by  the  waist;  her  lover  jumps  up  and  draws  his 
knife.  3d.  The  girl,  on  her  knees,  implores  her  lover 
not  to  fight,  while  his  antagonist  measures  with  his 
fingers  the  depth  to  which  the  knife  must  be  left  ex- 
posed. 4th.  A  tomb  at  which  the  young  girl  kneels, 
both  combatants  having  been  killed  in  the  fearful 
struorofle. 

This  Baelts-praelting ,  is  not  to  be  compared  with 
classic  wrestling;  nor  with  the  boxing  rinof.  Its  fa- 
tality  was  so  common  and  horrible,  that  the  wives 
and  sweethearts  of  the  peasantry  were  accustomed 
to  carry  to  the  Norse  fairs,  winding  sheets  for  their 
possible  and  probable  dead  ones.  The  Runic  in- 
scriptions from  the  Edda  tell  the  old  stories  of  Love 
and  Jealousy,  which  are  the  fountain  of  these  fatal 
feuds.  Drink  is  at  the  bottom  of  them  all.  The  evil 
spirit  being  prompted  by  the  devil  of  liquor,  as  in 
other  lands,  there  comes  the  occasion  sudden,  and 


196  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  quarrel  deadly,  and  then  the  maiden  and  wid- 
owed lamentation,  "  Oh !  why  am  I  solitary  like  the 
aspen  of  the  grove  !  Why  poor  in  kindred,  as  the  fir 
in  its  wintry  branches!"  This  is  the  sad  refrain,  like 
the  Irish  keene,  raised  over  the  remains  of  the  be- 
loved and  deceased,  wherever  the  demon  of  drink 
and  the  Nemesis  of  hate  had  combat  in  these  remote 
Norse  localities. 

But  it  is  said  that  they  have  changed  all  this,  by 
changing  the  liquor  laws.  The  bloody  romance  died 
even  before  the  law  took  away  the  right  to  sell,  at 
pleasure.  In  most  of  the  towns  and  cities  of  this 
peninsula,  an  association  has  the  monopoly  of  the 
drink,  and  returns  to  the  state,  all  above  a  small 
percentage  of  the  profit.  Hence  ther^  is  no  mo- 
tive to  hand  out  too  much  liquor,  or  to  give  extra 
drink  to  a  drunken  person.  This  law  is  said  to 
have  worked  wonders.  At  any  rate,  it  has  made 
the  duel  with  the  belt  and  knife  only  a  horrible 
memory. 

Day  after  day,  Stockholm  presents  its  ever-new 
phase.  The  palace  with  its  Bernadotte  rooms,  the 
moth-eaten  cloak  of  the  French-Swedish  king,  and 
all  the  paraphernalia  of  his  room  as  he  left  it,  even 
to  the  glasses,  paper-cutters  and  pens;  old  paintings 
on  the  wall;  the  king's  and  queen's  rooms,  rich  in  tap- 
estry and  bric-a-brac;  and  all  seen  by  us  because 
Royalty  is  ill  and  absent,  summering  at  Elsinore ! 
Another  day  of  ethnographic  interest  with  the  Maid 
of  Dalecarlia  herself,  to  show  us  the  costumes  of 
her  historic  province  and  the  antiquities  of  the 
land  of  Gustavus.  Here  a  Runic  staff,  which  bore 
its  message;  there,  odd  and  old  caps,  bridal  crowns 
and  peasants'  kitchen  wares,  and  yonder,  Lapp  and 
reindeer,  as  realistic  as  in  the  tent  life  itself.     An- 


SWEDEN.  197 

Other  day  is  spent  in  the  Djurgarden ;  driving 
around  and  past  Bellman's  bust,  where  students 
meet  to  sing  his  songs  and  sip  their  beer  and  up 
to  the  Belvidere  for  the  beautiful  view  of  the  city. 
What  a  range  the  vision  takes  over  hills,  farms  and 
forests,  streams,  sea,  and  chateaux.  Reasoning,  a 
priori,  one  might  infer,  that  such  .scenery,  with  its 
clear  streams,  stern  grey  rocks,  and  endless  woods, 
would  be  the  home  of  song  and  poetry.  So  it  is. 
Even  the  names  of  the  people  are  drawn  from  na- 
ture. A  cobbler  is  called  Frederick  Birchleaf;  a 
blacksmith,  Carl  Oaktwig;  a  washerwoman,  Wilhel- 
mina  Whortleberry;  a  seamstress,  Ingeborg  Run- 
ningbrook,  and  even  Jenny  Lind's  real  name  was 
Jenny  Limetree. 

This  love  of  nature  finds  its  expression  in  the 
lichen  and  moss-covered  rocks  which  line  the  roads 
and  by-paths  of  the  Djurgarden.  Here  Bellman 
was  wont  to  wander  and  improvise  his  joyous  songs. 
Here  he  quaffed  the  champagne  of  the  air,  as  he  lauded 
another  brand  in  his  verse.  This  Swedish  Pindar, 
made  his  life  musical  with  enthusiasm.  His  coun- 
trymen will  not  willingly  let  it  die.  It  is  a  part  of 
their  happy  nature. 

Near  the  Belvidere,  is  the  sweetest  summer 
palace  imaginable.  It  is  Rosendal.  In  furnish  and 
finish,  in  locality  and  loveliness,  it  is  incompar- 
able. Gay  pennons  and  light  armor  decorate  the 
dining-hall;  the  salon  is  frescoed  in  light  colors; 
gilt  chairs,  brocade  or  gobelin  wall  hangings,  with 
portraits  of  the  royal  family,  including  the  Empress 
Josephine,  in  the  beauty  of 'her  gay  life,  all  remind 
us  of  the  new  dynasty  which  came  into  the  north 
out  of  the  great  wars  of  Napoleon.  How  can  I  dis- 
play on  paper,  the  old  library,  the  maple-lined  hall, 


198  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  mahogany  stairway,  with  its  ebony  and  gih  bal- 
ustrades, while  in  pretty  lighted  spots  on  the  wall 
are  pictures  of  local  renown  and  color;  and  among 
them  the  Nord  Cap  of  our  own  exploring  ambition  ? 
To  add  to  the  charm  of  this  visit  to  Rosendal,  a 
Quaker-like  old  lady,  in  plain  attire  and  with  dulcet 
tones,  explains  it  all.  The  porphyry  vase,  fifty  feet 
in  circumference,  adorns  a  garden  in  front.  It  is  a 
Dalecarlian  trophy,  and  has  a  patriotic  iron  ring  in 
its  music.  We  wound  up  this  day,  all  sparkling  on 
water  and  in  wood,  with  a  visit  to  the  circus.  Miss 
Ida  Washington,  an  American  equestrienne,  is  upon 
the  programme  as,  '' i  sini  storartarde  proditJdioner 
pa  stalti^adslinay  Whatever  that  is,  she  made  us 
feel  proud  of  her  skill  and  beauty;  for  she  played 
her  part  on  horseback  in  a  pantomime,  which  had 
the  magic  of  the  Norse  days  for  its  subtlety,  and  the 
dash  of  the  Arab  for  its  chivalry. 

Still  another  day;  and  where?  To  Upsala;  the 
Cambridge  of  Sweden.  It  was  the  old  capital.  It 
is  primitive  and  quiet.  The  word  Upp-Sala  means 
the  lofty  halls  of  the  gods.  Here  were  the  old 
temples.  The  route  is  a  few  hours  by  rail.  It  lies 
through  a  pleasant  valley,  and  is  on  historic  ground. 
The  meadows  are  merry  with  hay-makers,  men  and 
women.  The  fields  are  pleasant  with  buttercups, 
marigold,  and  larkspur.  Some  sheepskin  coverlets 
are  drying  in  the  sun.  Oats  and  rye,  with  thatched 
log  cabins,  and  a  few  women  with  handkerchiefs 
upon  their  heads,  and  an  occasional  rustic  Thor, 
with  leathern  apron,  vary  the  monotony  of  the 
prairie  route. 

There  is  said  to  be  an  university  here,  but  it  is 
so  scattered  into  lecture  rooms,  that  it  is  not  seen, 
in   any   specific  edifice.     The  library  is  a  splendid 


SWEDEN.  199 

building'  on  a  hill,  overlooking  the  city.  The  ar- 
rangement of  the  library,  is  a  model  of  quiet  con- 
venience. It  contains  a  copy  of  the  Edda  of  Stur- 
leson  and  other  Sagas.  But  the  special  attraction  is 
the  "  Silver  Code."  It  consists  of  the  translation  by 
Bishop  Ulphilas,  called  the  Maeso-Gothic,  of  the 
four  gospels,  written  in  silver  and  gold;  the  pages 
alternating  with  each  other  on  purplish  vellum.  It 
is  rich  in  the  old  Gothic  laniruaire,  and  like  the 
Rosetta  Stone,  unlocks  many  a  history.  It  is  a 
trophy  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  and  dates  back  to 
the  year  a.  u.,  360.  It  came  from  the  Goths  of  the 
Danube.  A  Gothic  count  had  it  bound  in  velvet 
and  silver,  for  the  library.  Here  too,  repose  Luther 
alongside  of  Linnaeus,  and  in  sweet  concord  many 
warring  religious  dogmatists,  along  with  the  love  let- 
ters of  Gustavus  Adolphus  to  his  wife.  A  pleasant 
walk  under  arching  trees  outside;  and  a  long  look  at 
the  "  flying  buttresses"  of  the  cathedral,  and  we  enter 
it  for  a  o-lance  at  the  tombs  and  effitries  of  kino;s  and 
queens,  and  at  many  frescos  of  Gustavus  Adolphus 
in  his  various  characters,  assumed  and  real.  The 
vestry-room  with  its  relics  is  shown,  including  a 
fragmentary  image  of  Thor  in  wood,  which  has  been 
well  preserved.  The  three  Tumuli  of  Thor,  Odin 
and  Freya  are  visited.  They  are  like  our  mounds 
in  Ohio,  or  those  on  the  plain  of  Troy ;  and  are 
only  interesting  as  suggesting  the  sources  of  our 
days  of  the  week.  There  is  a  little  church  near, 
where  a  little  wooden  Christus  is  exhibited  by  a 
damsel,  who  opens  the  ponderous  door  with  a  key 
as  heavy  as  herself.  The  image  looks  like  a  small 
edition  of  Thor.  The  place  where  the  Kings  of 
Sweden,  in  less  autocratic  eras,  addressed  the  people 
on   assuming  the  purple,  is  near;   but   only  a  half 


200  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

dozen  houses  mark  the  spot  where  the  ancient  cap- 
ital of  Sweden  stood. 

Upsala  is  a  dull  place.  The  students  have  vaca- 
tion, and  there  is  no  evidence  of  its  erudition,  only 
of  its  tradition. 

The  system  of  education  of  which  Sweden  has  the 
right  to  vaunt  herself,  is  in  her  schools.  This  we 
had  a  chance  to  investigate,  through  the  courtesy 
of  Dr.  Myerberg,  the  accomplished  commissioner. 
He  gallanted  us  one  Sunday,  into  his  school  and 
gymnastic  rooms,  up  and  down,  and  all  around  the 
city.  He  is  known  to  America,  as  the  commissioner 
to  the  Centennial  Exhibition,  where  he  exhibited 
the  model  school  house  of  the  world. 

Another  day  is  given  to  the  Redderholm  Church, 
its  flags,  drums,  tombs  and  trophies.  There  repose 
the  men  who  made  Sweden  famous  in  war  and  g^reat 
in  peace.  The  sarcophagus  of  Bernadotte  is  here: 
it  is  of  porphyry.  It  occupies  a  chapel,  under  tJie 
stained  and  cobwebbed  windows.  Here,  too,  we 
find  the  family  of  Oxenstiern;  and  what  pleased  us, 
that  of  Loewenhaupt, — the  ancestry  of  the  minister 
at  Washington,  to  whom  we  were  indebted  for  let- 
ters to  eminent  men.  What  fighters  these  Swedes 
were  in  their  day,  judging  by  the  flags,  armorial 
bearings,  horses,  lions,  drums,  helmets,  and  lists  of 
battles.  The  brass  coffins  and  heavy  stone  slabs 
seem  feeble  to  hold  such  bones! 

Museums  in  natural  history,  mineralogy  and  ar- 
chaeology make  another  day  fly  on  golden  wing, 
over  silver  waters. 

We  had  reserved  at  least  two  days  for  the  great 
museum.  Dr.  Myerberg  was  there  to  explain  the 
mysteries  of  the  Norse  myths,  to  which  Northern 
art  has  given  body  and  color,  with  brush  and  chisel. 


SWEDEN.  201 

Here  were  Thor,  Odin  and  Freya, — in  statuary  and 
painting;  and  a  few  classic  Psyches  and  Cupids, 
chaste  and  graceful  in  pose,  design  and  execution, 
to  keep  them  company.  New  masters  of  choicest 
art — Sergell  among  them — are  worthy  of  the  clime 
of  Thorwaldsen.  This  museum  is  replete  with  il- 
lustrations of  that  Northern  refinement,  which  seems 
a  solecism  to  the  unthinking.  Primeval  rock,  pine 
and  birch  forests,  plentiful  waters  and  long  winters 
may  make  their  rude  and  artless  stamp  upon  Scan- 
dinavian character.  The  endless  summer  of  the 
south,  with  its  luxuriousness,  is  supposed  to  be  the 
chosen  home  of  inspiration  and  elegance.  Still  par- 
adoxical as  it  seems,  the  north  has  wedded  the  south, 
and  the  result  is  that  genius  is  born,  irrespective  of 
soil  and  climate,  long  winter  or  short  summer.  This 
genius  has  seized  upon  the  rugged  outlines  of  the 
north  and  its  mythology  and  tradition,  and  filled 
the  galleries  of  Scandinavia  with  pictures  like  those 
of  Tidemand,  and  statues  like  those  of  Fogelberg. 

I  have  already  expressed  my  delight  over  Tide- 
mand's  Seven  Ages  of  Peasant  Life,  at  Oscar  Hall,  in 
Norway.  But  his  characteristic,  if  not  his  best  paint- 
ings are  here.  He  was  an  uncompromising  Norse- 
man. He  disdained  to  be  a  copyist  of  the  classics. 
The  "  Bridal  Procession  across  Hardangerfjord,"  and 
the  "  Funeral  Party  over  Sognefjord,"  give  him 
a  high  place  as  a  genre  painter;  while  his  "  Gustavus 
Yasa,  Addressing  the  Dalecarlian  Peasantry,"  has  no 
equal  as  a  historic  picture.  He  associated  with  his 
art,  other  genii  of  the  palette,  like  Hans  Gude;  and 
interpreted  to  the  world,  the  hidden  life  of  North- 
land, with  its  ministers  of  religion  preaching  in  the 
cot,  its  catechism  in  the  Hitterdal  Church,  its  school- 
masters and  schools  in  their  native  simplicity,  and 


202  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

its  rugged  bear  hunters  in  their  shady  forests !  He 
left  to  others  the  more  ambitious  work  of  picturing 
the  dreams  of  the  Eddas,  the  exploits  of  its  heroes 
and  the  forms  of  its  divinities;  but  he  did  not  leave 
this  work  to  them,  in  vain. 

How  strange  the  picture  of  the  golden-haired 
Freya,  with  her  chariot  of  saffron,  holding  her  fam- 
ily of  blondes,  drawn  by  a  team  of  cats;  while  Thor 
with  the  hammer,  is  heralded  by  the  lightning  and 
clouds  of  the  Boreal  North.  He  comes  forth,  drawn 
by  goats !  Well,  the  North  teems  yet  and  has 
teemed  from  Gothic  days,  with  hordes  of  human 
beings;  and  these  prolific  animals,  though  not  of  a 
high  type,  are  animated  in  the  picture  and  symbolic 
of  population ! 

A  dinner  with  the  learned  doctor,  at  the  club, 
which  ladies  are  permitted  to  enter,  and  an  adjourn- 
ment to  the  parlor  above  the  dining-hall, — and  this 
on  Sabbath  evenino-; — and  then  a  visit  to  a  delic^htful 
American  home,  whose  windows,  full  of  tropical  flow- 
ers, look  out  upon  the  shimmering  water;  a  talk  about 
princes  and  crowns,  books  and  bric-a-brac,  and  then 
upon  the  streets  amidst  the  throngs  of  people,  with 
numerous  shows  to  attract  them;  and  we  close  a 
week  of  wonders. 

The  next  day,  we  prepare  to  leave  this  superb 
city.  We  visit  our  vessel,  and  make  our  adieux  to 
our  faithful  Danish  guide  and  to  our  courteous  Amer- 
ican Minister.  Everywhere,  we  have  been  haunted 
by  the  good  spirits  which  dwelt  in  Andersen's  fables 
and  Jenny  Lind's  voice.  These  and  another  spirit 
more  sacred,  are  the  memories  which  transatlantic 
people  cherish,  about  this  once  fierce  and  now  be- 
loved Gothland.  As  we  wander  and  ponder  under 
the  mellow  light  of  our  last  evenincr  in  Sweden, — • 


SWEDEN.  203 

we  think  of  Margaret  Howitt's  simple  and  beautiful 
tribute  to  Fredrika  Bremer,  with  whom  she  was  liv- 
ing', when  her  aged  heroine  ceased  to  breathe: 

"Fredrika  Bremer  loved  the  lig-lit.  A  thorough  Scandinavian, 
she  persistently  strove  after  it;  but,  wiser  than  the  old  heathens,  who 
flung  themselves  from  the  precipice,  to  reach,  as  they  said,  '  the  other 
light,'  rather  than  endure  old  age,  she  devoted  her  declining  years 
to  ascending  ever  upwards  towards  the  divine,  eternal  light,  and  thus, 
on  the  last  day  of  the  year  1865,  entered  mto  the  promise  which  she 
had  selected  in  her  text-book,  'Golden  Corn,'  for  that  very  day: — 

"  '  There  shall  be  no  night  there;  and  they  need  no  candle,  neither 
light  of  the  sun,  for  the  Lord  God  giveth  them  light,  and  they  shall 
reign  forever.'" 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE  LAND   OF   THE   FINNS  — THEIR   ORIGIN,    CUSTOMS,   MAN- 
NERS,  AND  LIFE. 

"Egad!  I  thmk  the  interpreter  is  the  harder  to  be  understood 
of  the  two." — Critic. 

THE  waters  of  the  North  Sea  and  the  Atlantic 
which  push  through  the  Skager-Rack,  Cattegat, 
the  Baltic  Sea,  and  the  Bothnian  Gulf,  and  which 
temper  the  climate  and  surround  the  sides  of  Nor- 
way, Sweden,  and  Denmark,  make  a  northern  bound- 
ary to  Germany  and  a  western  limit  to  European 
Russia.  The  Aland  Isles,  which  upon  the  map  seem 
like  mosquitoes,  and  which  are  a  part  of  an  innum- 
erable archipelago,  divide  the  Bothnian  Gulf  from  the 
Baltic  Sea.  They  do  more.  They  furnish  pleasant 
navigation  in  summer  weather  between  Stockholm 
and  Russian  Finland,  on  the  way  to  St.  Petersburg.  It 
is  among  these  islands,  and  in  the  Finland  Gulf,  be- 
tween Abo  and  Helsino^fors,  we  now  sail.  Our  ves- 
sel  makes  a  four  days'  voyage,  in  spite  of  delay  by 
fog  and  head  winds.  It  is  one  of  a  line,  owned  by 
Finlandcrs,  and  is  called  the  Attra,  with  an  obliging 
captain  (Feilcke),  who  has  captured  many  a  whale 
in  the  Arctic  regions,  and  whose  prudence  amidst 
these  three  hundred  Aland  Isles  and  five  thousand 
other  islands  receives  constant  commendation. 

It  was  a  hard  matter  to  leave  Stockholm.     Its  at- 


THE    LAND    OF   THE    FINNS.  ZO$ 

tractions  were  not  exhausted.    We  were  just  begin- 
ning, under  native  guidance,  to  feel  our  way  to  the 
interior  hfe  and  exterior  beauty  of  the  city  and  its 
environs.     It  is  itself  an  illustration  of  the  very  sea 
scenery  around  us.     It  is  situated  upon  rocky  isles, 
but  they  are  not  uniform  in  height,  as  those  in  the 
Finland  Gulf.     But  they  are  all  alike  covered  with 
pines  and  birches,  and  have  at  every  view  some  dec- 
oration by  man  to  help  the   inadequacy  of  nature. 
Those  who  have  sailed  through  Lake  Huron's  Mani- 
touline  Isles,  as  we  have  not,  liken  these  little  beau- 
ties to  its  insular  multitudes.     Those  who  have,  as 
we  have,  sailed  the  Thousand  Isles  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, have  seen  a  faint  picture  of  the  rocks,  trees, 
channels  and  sky,  which  make  this,  our  first  sunny 
day  out  from  Stockholm,  so  romantic  and  resplen- 
dent.    I  do  not  know  that  any  one  has  ever  taken  a 
census  of  these  isles  of  the  Bothnian,  Finland,  and 
Baltic  waters;  I  mean  of  their  number.     The  number 
of  their  people  is  known  to  be  about  fifteen  thou- 
sand.    Although    they  cannot   approach    in    attrac- 
tion the  line   of  Western  Norway,  from   fifty-eight 
to   seventy-one   degrees    north    latitude,   which   we 
traversed,  either  in  the  number  of  isles,  or  in  the  wild- 
ness  of  its  labyrinthine  maze,  yet,  like  them,  they  fur- 
nish comfortable  barricades  for  the  passenger  who 
does   not   rejoice  in  the  bold,  the  bold,   the   open, 
open  sea !    We  have  dodged  the  sinister  movements 
of  wind  and  wave  in  certain  exposed  places,  partly 
by  sleeping  at  particular  hours.    We  are  now  around 
the  southwest  corner  of  Finnish  Russia,  and  running 
between  the  inland  isles,  and  utterly  impervious  to 
the  thrust  of  the  Trident.     The  Hudson  could  not 
be  more  placid,  enclosed  by  palisade  and  green  banks, 
than  these  channels  of  the  Gulf  of  Finland.     We  are 


2o6  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

hugging,  however,  close  to  the  northern  shore;  but 
the  hug  is  that  of  a  child  to  its  mother's  breast,  and 
it  is  reassuring. 

Let  us  go  upon  the  deck  for  an  observation. 
Our  vessel  is  not  much  longer  than  one  of 
our  New  York  ferryboats.  It  is  not  a  sea-boat, 
like  others  of  the  line.  It  is  a  paddle-wheel, 
and  has  a  wide  and  roomy  deck,  over  which  floats 
the  Russian-Finnish  ensign — the  red,  white,  and 
blue,  in  large  stripes,  with  a  small  white  square 
field  on  which  is  gracefully  curled  a  golden  horn. 
The  passengers  are  most  of  them  Finns,  though 
there  are  Germans,  French,  English,  Russian,  and  at 
least  three  or  four  Americans  of  both  sexes.  The 
languages  are  freely  exchanged.  It  is  not  infrequent 
that  we  find  those  who  speak  all  these  tongues,  al- 
though we  find  but  two  Finns  who  talk  English,  and 
one  is  our  captain.  The  vessel  is  loaded  with  agri- 
cultural implements,  sheet-iron,  and  such  fabrics  as 
Sweden  produces;  but  the  main  traffic  is  that  of  pas- 
sengers. The  captain  tells  me  that  Finland  produces 
timber,  cattle,  and  butter,  and  that  these  are  ex- 
changed with  Sweden  for  her  iron  and  other  fabrics; 
but  he  also  says  that  the  business  does  not  pay.  The 
line  cannot  run  through  in  winter,  as  the  waters  are 
closed  by  ice,  but  the  enterprise  of  the  Finns  has 
made  a  railroad  from  Abo  to  Helsingfors,  and  thence 
to  St.  PetersburcT.  It  cuts  throuofh  the  tous^h  old 
granite,  which  bulges  up  like  everlasting  warts  on  the 
body  of  all  these  lands  of  Scandinavia.  For  be  it 
remembered,  that  Finland  was  once  a  political  part 
of  Sweden.  The  attachment,  however,  has  been  dis- 
solved by  time,  as  it  was  originally  by  force  in  1809. 
Abo,  where  we  landed  yesterday,  was  once  the  cap- 
ital of  Finland,  when  Finland  was  the  principal  prov- 


THE    LAND    OF   THE    FINNS.  2C7 

ince  of  Sweden.  But,  whatever  may  ho.  said  of  Rus- 
sian rule  elsewhere,  she  has  let  Finland  have  her 
autonomy,  with  independence  in  Church  and  State. 
The  Finns  have  a  legislature  of  their  own.  It  con- 
sists of  one  body,  the  Senate.  It  has  a  peculiar  coin- 
age, with  a  mark  (a  franc)  and  its  one  hundred  pen- 
nies. The  governor  is  appointed  by  the  Czar,  but  in 
local  matters  the  ancient  order  and  manners  of  the 
country  are  respected  and  protected. 

One  is  tempted  here  to  ask  why  it  is  that  auto- 
cratic Russia  permits  this  home  rule  in  Finland  ?  Is 
not  Russia  the  very  antipodes  of  such  a  domestic 
system  ?  Other  parts  of  Russia  may  and  do  com- 
plain of  the  leniency  and  liberality  of  Russia  to  Fin- 
land, but  the  fact  remains,  and  it  is  owing  to  the 
orderly  good  sense  of  the  Finns  themselves. 

Who  and  what  are  these  Finns  ?  They  are  not 
Scandinavians,  in  the  sense  of  Norse,  Dane,  or 
Swede.  They  are  not  exactly  Lapps — not  now. 
Their  language,  at  least,  is  their  own.  The  captain 
tells  me  that  it  has  many  words  similar  to  the  Hun- 
garian, which  is  Eastern,  and  we  agree  to  settle  it, 
as  all  ethnological  conundrums  are  concluded,  by  re- 
ferring them  to  the  Orient,  that  cradle  of  the  races 
of  men.  So  unlike  is  their  lansfuaof-e  from  that  of  the 
Swede,  that  the  captain  says  that  he  has  seen  a  driver 
of  a  vehicle  which  he  had  hired  in  a  town  of  Finland, 
where  Finns  live,  to  another  place  where  Swedes 
live,  wno  could  not  be  understood  in  the  latter  place, 
even  in  the  matter  of  "  baiting  his  beast "  or  himself. 

The  Finns  we  have  seen  have  light  hair — yellow 
or  red — and  when  not  too  much  mixed,  are  shorter 
than  the  Norwegian  or  Swede.  Though  rather 
chunky,  they  are  stalwart  and  hardy  like  the  Norse 
people.     Nor  must  these  Finns  of  Swedish  history  and 


208  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

association  be  confounded  with  the  Finns  of  Russia 
proper.  Wallace,  in  his  book  on  Russia,  has  located 
the  latter  on  a  line  drawn  from  the  Polar  Ocean  to 
St.  Petersburg  and  reachinef  to  the  Ural  Mountains. 
He  has  a  learned  dissertation  on  these  Finns,  who 
have  now  more  or  less  of  the  Greek  reliofion  and 
Russian  characteristics,  and  who  are,  as  he  thinks, 
the  original  occupants  of  this  part  of  our  planet. 
They  are  now,  however,  in  everything,  very  like 
the  Russian  peasant,  and  are  entirely  dissociated 
with  these  Finns  of  the  peninsula  immediately  north 
of  the  gulf  of  that  name.  It  is  hard  to  trace  the 
origin  of  the  races  in. Scandinavia,  Russia,  and  Fin- 
land. Doubtless  there  is  more  or  less  of  a  mixture 
of  the  Teutonic  and  Goth  with  the  Finns  and  Norse- 
men. The  poetry  of  Sweden,  to  which  Finland  be- 
longed, is  full  of  the  praises  of  the  Finns,  who  fought 
against  Russia  in  the  great  conflicts  for  supremacy 
in  the  times  of  Peter  the  Great  and  since.  The 
Finns  like  the  Swedes  better  than  they  do  the  Rus- 
sians, though  they  are  not  discontented  with  Russian 
rule.  The  Finns  are  a  brave  and  frugal  people. 
They  fear  no  danger;  they  court  the  perils  of  the 
sea  and  the  Northern  climate.  Those  who  dwell  in 
the  remote  forests  of  Osterdal,  and  who  fish  for  cod 
about  Spitzbergen,  and  chase  the  whale  around  Nova 
Zembla,  are  not  easily  scared  by  the  rigor  of  Arctic 
winters  or  the  ice-floes  of  Northern  oceans.  The 
Finns  of  Norway  and  Sweden  have  the  same  Lu- 
theran religion  and  many  habits  of  the  Norsemen  and 
Swedes,  but,  in  spite  of  the  "  schooling "  in  other 
languages,  their  own  language  remains.  The  Lapps 
are  not  precisely  the  same  as  the  Finns,  although 
our  captain  insists  that  they  are  of  the  same  primary 
stock,  and  not  at  all  originally  allied  with  the  Norse 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    ELVA'S.  209 

and  Swede.  Like  the  Indians  on  our  reservations, 
however,  they  are  becominL^  somewhat  ameliorated, 
if  not  civiHzed;  but  the  F'inns  of  Russian  Finland,  along- 
the  crulf  which  we  are  sailinof,  are  so  immersed  in  the 
races  about  them,  that  they  partake  of,  if  they  do 
not  surpass,  the  civilization  of  their  neighbors.  They 
are  farmers,  cattle-raisers,  and  butter-makers.  They 
are  not  nomadic,  have  no  reindeer,  and  are  not  vio- 
lent or  ungentle.  Their  country  is  more  than  half 
water.  Its  lakes,  as  the  map  shows,  are  as  plentiful 
as  those  of  Sweden.  The  latter  country  has  credit 
for  a  good  deal  which  Finland  has  accomplished.  In 
science  and  navigation  these  Finns  are  not  to  be 
passed  by,  as  if  they  were  some  tribe  of  aborigines, 
without  enterprise  or  culture.  It  is  enough  to  say 
that  Nordenskjold,  the  Polar  explorer,  was  born  at 
Helsingfors.  He  is  a  sample  of  the  best  Finnish 
blood,  which,  before  the  Goths  conquered  it,  con- 
trolled all  Sweden.  Emerson  says,  that  man  is, 
physically,  a  thing  of  shreds  and  patches,  borrowed 
unequally  from  good  and  bad  ancestors,  and  a  misfit 
from  the  start;  so  that  whether  our  authentic  writer 
on  Russia — Wallace — should  trace  the  Finns  to  the 
original  fish,  from  which,  perhaps,  they  have  been 
evolved;  or,  whether  the  blood  has  mixed  with  Vandal, 
Norse,  Goth,  Sclav,  or  Scythian, — are  they  not  en- 
titled, as  patriots,  to  be  tested  by  a  better  touchstone 
than  ancestry  ?  Is  not  a  man's  country  more  than 
rocks  and  waters,  woods  and  meadows  ?  Loyalty 
and  devotion  to  some  supreme  thought,  to  some 
primal  virtue — this  it  is  which  makes  the  humblest 
Finn  as  rich  and  royal  as  the  greatest  kaiser.  I  con- 
fess to  a  stronof  feelinof  for  this  race,  because  of  its 
unbought  courtesy  to  strangers  and  its  perennial 
spring  of  good  nature,  and  for  its  culture,  indepen- 


2IO  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

dence,  and  pride,  under  the  adversity  which  it  has 
surmounted ! 

Last  night  we  left  Abo.  We  had  several  hours 
of  rest  there  while  the  vessel  was  loading  and  un- 
loading. We  improved  the  chance  to  examine  the 
old  city.  It  is  no  longer  the  capital,  as  the  Russians 
removed  that  to  Helsingfors,  because,  as  it  is  alleged, 
the  Abo  people  were  so  ingrained  with  Swedish  as- 
sociations. However  that  may  be,  the  place  is  pros- 
perous. It  has  twenty-five  thousand  people,  and  a 
long  river,  running  up  out  of  the  gulf,  or  the  estu- 
aries which  form  its  arms.  On  either  side  of  this 
river  is  a  substantial  stone  quay.  It  is  lined  with 
vessels  and  business  houses  for  miles.  This  river  is 
called  the  Aurajoke;  but  to  one  interested  in  serious 
work  there  is  no  joke  about  the  industry  or  the 
people,  who  here  build  ships,  refine  sugar,  and  make 
cotton  cloth. 

Our  vessel   remains  loner  enough   to   o-ive  us  a 

o  o  o       ^  ^ 

chance  to  hire  a  drosky  and  see  the  multifarious 
people.  Our  main  difficulty  is  with  the  languages 
spoken — Swedish,  Russian,  and  Finnish,  neither  of 
which  we  know.  However,  we  gather  a  few  phrases 
and  make  a  few  signs,  and  set  off  up  the  cobble 
pavement  to  the  old  cathedral,  which  shines  on  the 
hill.  The  drosky  is  a  Russian  vehicle,  barely  hold- 
ing two,  and  low  down,  with  the  driver  perched  on 
high  in  front.  This  driver  stops  his  horse  with  a 
roll  of  the  tongue — Burrrr-r!  as  in  Norway.  He 
wears  a  long  ulster,  without  buttons — a  sort  of  dark 
blue  pelisse  girded  with  a  belt — and  his  hat  is  like 
the  "  bell  crown  "  of  our  continental  days,  after  the 
antique  French  pattern  of  the  Opera  Comique,  as  if 
some  one  had  violently  sat  upon  its  inverted  pyra- 
mid and  lowered  its  altitude. 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    FINNS.  2 1  I 

This  cathedral  is  the  oldest  Christian  temple  in 
Finland.  The  verger  spoke  no  English  or  French. 
Our  interview  with  him  was  mostly  "  inexplicable 
dumb  show."  Still,  we  got  along  with  the  aid  of  a 
Dane,  who  was  likewise  a  traveller,  and  who  lessened 
our  mortification  by  sharing  our  ignorance.  I  could 
read  the  Latin  inscriptions  over  the  old  tombs,  and 
make  out  the  worn  carved  figures  in  full  length  as 
images  of  our  human  kind.  But  there  was  a  gem 
there  not  to  be  lightly  viewed,  a  marble  sarcophagus 
to  Katrina  Mansdotter,  whom  we  made  out  to  be 
a  queen  of  Sweden,  and  who,  when  widowed,  came 
to  Finland  to  live  and  die.  She  had  a  chapel  of  her 
own,  with  stained  glass,  and  her  face  shone  upon  it 
supremely  sweet!  A  Scotchman,  Colonel  Cock- 
burne,  a  soldier  and  hero,  is  also  here  entombed  in 
much  state,  and  under  much  Latinity.  But  the 
splendid  cathedral  was  no  longer  Catholic.  It  was 
whitewashed  and  ungainly  marred  by  side  galleries. 
A  glance  at  the  monument  to  a  hero  of  Finland, 
Porthan;  a  ride  over  the  stones,  all  clean,  though 
rough;  a  scream  from  the  steam  whistle,  and  we  are 
aboard,  with  a  Russian  Custom- House  officer,  who 
thought — gentle  recipient  of  our  francs — to  relieve  us 
here  at  Abo  of  the  investigation  in  St.  Petersburg,  and 
we  are  ready  to  go.  In  vain.  A  fog  arises,  and  our 
wary  captain  waits  till  two  in  the  morning.  In  a  few 
hours  we  are  at  Honga,  where  we  again  land.  We  see 
a  village  of  four  hundred  people.  It  has  grown  in 
three  years,  by  reason  of  the  railroad.  We  ascend  a 
hill  of  red  granite,  from  which  the  bridges  at  St. 
Petersburg  are  built,  and  from  which  we  have  a  view 
of  the  old  forts  dismantled  by  England  and  France 
in  the  Crimean  war.  It  furnishes  a  splendid  pros- 
pect   of  the  rocky   isles    hooded  with  firs — to  the 


212  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

verge  of  the  horizon.  Upon  this  granite  height  is 
an  old  cannon  fished  from  the  sea,  where  it  had  lain 
since  the  old  wars  with  the  Swedes  and  Russians. 
There  is  also  a  large  oblong  slab  of  the  granite,  ex- 
quisitely polished,  with  a  round  bowl  in  the  centre, 
to  commemorate  a  visit  of  Nordenskjold  on  his  return 
from  his  famous  successful  expedition.  The  people 
here  gave  him  a  grand  reception.  The  captain  tells 
me  that  they  had  a  good  joke  upon  him;  for  he  was' 
here  shut  in  with  the  ice,  and  could  not  reach  Stock- 
holm— -all  winter!  This  was  the  hero,  forsooth,  who 
had  gone  all  around  the  circle  in  the  Arctic  Seas, 
and  placed  it  as  a  circlet  of  gems  upon  his  Fin- 
nish brow ! 

At  five  next  day  we  reach  Helsingfors.  Most  of 
the  passengers  here  take  rail  for  St.  Petersburg. 
We  did  not,  and  we  were  sorry;  ah,  how  sorry,  a 
day  and  night  of  adverse  winds  and  melancholy 
rolling  witnessed!  But  we  saw  Helsingfors,  by  the 
aid  of  a  drosky.  By  the  courtesy  of  a  clever  Finn, 
who  spoke  French,  English,  Russian,  Swedish,  and 
his  own  tongue,  we  had  learned  much  in  advance  of 
his  native  town,  which  he  was  about  to  visit.  He 
was  a  farmer  in  western  Finland,  but  he  said  that 
four  languages,  at  least,  were  indispensable  even  for 
his  own  vocation  in  these  confused  and  confusinQf 
localities.  From  him  we  learn  much  of  the  internal 
government  of  the  province.  They  have  their  tax 
troubles  and  military  worries,  like  other  people,  but 
they  have  a  Senate  of  their  own,  and  that  makes  it 
all  tolerable. 

Before  we  leave  for  the  shore  the  captain  gives 
us  four  Swedish  expressions.  He  calls  us  up  on  the 
deck,  and,  in  the  presence  of  a  jolly  crowd  of  lookers- 
on  of  every  nation  and  tongue,  he  says: 


THE    LAND    OF   THE   FINNS.  213 

"  To  you,  Mr.  Cox,  '  Kor  omkririg  stan  !  '  To 
you,  Madame  Cox,  '  Ve  vilL  bese  sia7i;  kor  till  bruns- 

parken!'     To    you.    Dr.   ,    'Kor  till  anbateit 

Aura!"  and  to  you,  Madame  G.,  '' Kor  en  timmaf" 

All  which,  however  well  spelled,  was  terribly  un- 
pronounceable; but  we  played  our  parts  upon  the 
drivers,  so  as  to  make  them  understand  "  that  we 
would  drive  around,  see  the  town,  go  to  the  main 
park,  and  come  back  to  the  '  Aura  '  within  the  hour!" 
"  All  which,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  added  our  Cap- 
tain Feilcke,  "will  cost  you  a  mark  and  fifty  pfen- 
nings," which  is  about  thirty-four  cents  for  each 
drosky !  We  made  our  bargains,  two  persons  for  each 
drosky,  and  away  we  rattled  over  the  stony  streets, 
which  were  wide,  clean,  and  somewhat  grass-grown 
in  places.  It  was  a  witching  time  to  see  the  Orient- 
alism of  the  Russ  minQ-linc:,  under  a  beautiful  even- 
ing  sky,  with  the  Scandinavianism  of  the  Occident. 
We  also  saw  its  not  unpicturesque  architecture.  The 
gilded  Greek  church,  set  upon  an  ele^iation  of  rock, 
glistened  in  gold.  Dome,  minarets,  and-^reek  cross 
shine  like  a  sunlit  picture  in  Bagdad,  quite  in  con- 
trast with  the  black  steeple  of  the  Finnish  Protes- 
tant church  and  the  gawky  old  windmill,  which 
stretches  out  its  awkward  arms  and  lazily  plays  with 
the  breeze,  which  blows  from  off  the  great  Sweaborg 
fortress,  upon  the  verdant  isles  of  the  bay.  The 
quay  is  lined  with  ships  and  steamers,  and  little  tug- 
ferries  dance  about.  Work  is  everywhere  pro- 
gressing. The  houses  are  long,  one-story  buildings, 
with  no  doors  in  front,  but  gates  at  the  end  for  en- 
trance to  a  side-yard  or  garden.  The  windows  are 
of  large  panes,  through  which  are  seen  the  gera- 
nium, heliotrope,  and  roses  of  every  variety.  Here 
and  there  were  the  Holland  mirrors  outside  of  the 


214  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

windows  for  indoor  observation  of  the  street.  On 
the  sides  of  the  houses  are  spouts  of  tin  for  ventila- 
tion. On  the  streets  are  the  long-robed  gentry;  for 
everybody,  even  the  children,  are  ulstered;  and  the 
drivers  look  like  old  wives,  and  but  for  the  bell-crown 
hat  and  the  lone  beard  mio^ht  be  taken  for  the  pfentler 
sex.  The  roofs  are  of  zinc  or  tin,  and  painted  of  va- 
rious colors— white,  blue,  green,  and  yellow — the 
green  giving  a  rural  effect,  not  unlike  that  of  the 
grassy  roofs  of  the  Norwegian  houses.  The  best 
buildings  are  generally  yellow  and  stuccoed.  Huge 
pumps  appear  at  the  street-corners,  with  six-foot 
spouts,  as  large  as  a  log,  and  a  pump-handle  strag- 
gles around  the  angle  big  enough  to  try  the  power 
of  a  donkey  engine.  We  pass  through  a  market, 
where  eating  is  going  on,  alfresco,  by  the  noisy  ten- 
ants of  the  quay.  Along  the  quay,  we  perceive,  as 
at  Abo  and  Hango,  convenient  ropes  and  life-preserv- 
ers to  rescue  those  who  fall  into  the  river.  Life- 
saving  being  one  of  my  hobbies,  I  make  a  note  of 
the  completeness  of  this  provision  along  these  water- 
ways. Soldiers  are  plentiful,  the  officers  in  white  caps, 
and  long  gray  coats,  and  with  heavy,  unseasona- 
ble collars,  and  the  privates  in  a  variety  of  uniforms, 
mostly  lono-  snuff- colored  robes.  They  all  seem 
quite  civil.  Custom-house  officers  wear  the  long 
robe  also.  There  is  an  elegant  theatre  and  town 
,hall  in  the  public  square,  a  Czar  palace  on  the  qua), 
and  the  legislature  has  a  building  worthy  of  its  func- 
tion. There  is  a  university,  with  eight  hundred  stu- 
dents, mostly  Finns.  Fulfilling  the  captain's  orders, 
we  drive  to  the  park,  whither  the  people  tend. 
There  is  the  music.  Some  Finnish  Levy  is  lead- 
ing the  orchestra,  amidst  the  applause  of  a  well- 
dressed    and    pleasure  -  loving    crowd.     How   these 


THE    LAND    OF   THE   FINNS.  215 

people  in  the  North  love  music  and  outdoors  —  at 
least  that  is  our  suDiuicry  observation. 

Our  tour  of  observation  is  thus  made  in  detail, 
because  here  was  the  be^jinninQ^  of  a  new  order.  It 
was  the  Russification  of  a  Finland  capital,  an  embryo 
St.  Petersburg-,  with  many  features  of  Russian  life, 
an  antepast  of  the  great  city,  to  which  our  vessel  is 
movinor. 

When  we  reached  the  vessel  I  paid  my  drosky 
his  mark  and  a  half,  plus  a  half  mark  for  pour  boire. 
He  was  thankful,  and,  as  we  had  not  communed  with 
him  much,  this  gratuity  was  easily  earned.  But  our 
companions  in  the  other  drosky,  the  Nicaraguan  phy- 
sician and  wife,  who  had  studied  several  languages, 
insisted  on  the  contract,  as  we  were  ten  minutes  be- 
fore time.  His  drosky-man  fairly  frothed  at  the 
shortness  of  his  fare.  I  felt  bound  to  put  a  few 
questions  to  the  irate  driver.  It  seemed  a  duty. 
It  is  said,  "  We  are  born  to  interrogate."  It  is  the 
noble  mission  of  man— of  Congressmen  especially, 
who  are  always  asking  questions  of  the  honorable 
member.  But  how  can  you  interrogate  a  crowd  of 
Russian-Finns,  when  you  do  not  know  their  lan- 
guage and  cannot  understand  their  grievance.  And 
when  your  interpreter  is  found  less  able  still  to  com- 
prehend you  or  your  interlocutor  ?  It  is  worse  than 
the  Scotch  definition  of  metaphysics:  "  Twa  men 
are  talking  together.  He  that's  listening  dinna 
ken  what  he  that's  speaking  means;  and  he  that's 
speaking  dinna  ken  what  he  means  himself — that's 
metaphysics."  What  are  thoughts  in  such  emer- 
gencies, without  language  ?  The  rose  without  a 
scent,  corned  beef  without  condiments,  champagne 
without  a  sparkle !  After  my  failure,  the  Nica- 
raguan   doctor    began    in    Spanish  —  with    a    touch 


2l6  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

of  German  and  a  lot  of  French.  A  general 
Babel  and  hullabaloo  followed.  Talk  about  the 
unshuttable  drawer  of  a  bureau,  or  the  difficulties 
of  a  stovepipe  in  spring,  as  exasperating !  Try  your 
tongue  in  an  unpronounceable  language,  which  if  you 
could  talk  you  would  not  understand,  upon  a  crowd 
of  Russ-Finn-Swedish  drosky-drivers,  outraged  by  a 
reduction  of  their  established  rate,  who  cannot  un- 
derstand you,  nor  you  them,  and  that,  too,  in  a 
strange  land,  where  they  are  backed  by  forty  other 
compatriots  and  the  police.  I  found  it  of  no  use  to 
discuss  or  contend,  as  did  the  doctor;  and  so,  after 
repeating,  with  sad,  rythmic  cadence  and  sepulchral, 
solemn  vehemence,  the  familiar  verse — 

"A  blue  trip  slip  for  an  eight-cent  fare, 
A  buff  trip  slip  for  a  six-cent  fare, 
A  pink  trip  slip  for  a  three-cent  fare, 
Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare; — " 

which  for  a  time  riveted  the  attention,  if  not  the 
good  humor,  of  the  crowd  of  droskies,  I  serenely  en- 
twined myself  in  an  imaginary  ulster  made  of  the 
glorious  tariff-laden  tissue  of  the  star-spangled  ban- 
ner and  retreated  toward  the  Aura.  But  the  doctor 
did  not  get  off  so  easily.  A  policeman  appeared, 
dressed  in  green,  with  a  sword !  The  doctor 
handed  over  the  fifty  deficient  pfennings,  and  we 
breathed  free  as  the  Aura,  upon  the  vessel  of  that 
name. 

It  is  two  in  the  morning  before  we  leave  Hel- 
singfors,  and  when  we  do — oh !  why  should  the  spirit, 
or  stomach  of  mortal  be  too  hopeful  or  boastful ! 
All  that  day,  until  5  p.  m.,  when  we  came  in  sight  of 
Cronstadt,  the  gulf  seems  to  grow  wider,  the  waves 
more  cross,  and  the  wind  more  adverse.     Our  side- 


THE    LAND    OF    THE   FINNS.  217 

wheeler  rocks  as  if  crazy.  In  vain  I  try  to  walk  with 
dio^nified  unconcern  upon  the  deck;  for  had  I  not 
been  an  arctic  explorer,  a  contemporary  of  Ur.  Hayes 
and  Nordenskjold  ?  In  vain  I  seek  the  bridge,  glass 
in  hand,  to  explore  the  low,  distant  line  of  coast.  In 
vain  I  study  my  map,  and  read  the  New  York  pa- 
pers about  political  imbroglios — all  in  vain!  I  tried 
to  think  of  Allan  Cunningham's  song,  about  the 
flowing  sea,  like  the  eagle  free,  a  snorting  breeze 
and  heaving  waves;  and  the  world  of  waters, — our 
heritage  the  sea,  and  the  merry — merry  men  on 
its  bosom;  but  I  could  not  make  it  jingle.  Sweet 
thoughts  come,  of  home,  adorable,  sunny,  quiet  home, 
even  a  home  within  thy  capital,  O  my  country  !  How 
my  soul  leaps  at  the  thought  of  home !  I  am  over- 
come by  the  thought,  and  incontinently  seek  my 
berth.  It  is  well  to  dissemble  in  some  emergencies. 
Putting  on  a  smiling  mask,  I  find  my  Guardian  An- 
gel below  seeking  repose  or  relief.  I  address  her  in 
Mathew  Prior's  verse: — 


"Did  I  but  purpose  to  embark  with  thee, 

On  the  smooth  surface  of  some  summer  sea; 
But  would  forsake  the  waves  and  make  the  shore, 
When  the  winds  whistle  and  the  billows  roar  ?  " 


"  Well,"  responded  the  angel,  "  why  didn't  you 
let  me  know  before  we  bought  a  ticket  through 
by  steamer,  that  there  was  rail  to  Abo  ?  But,  alas  ! 
you  look  pale.  I  will  not  reproach  you.  Steward! 
Quick ! " 

One  consolation  I  usually  have  in  sea-sickness. 
It  is  poetry,  but  that  failed  me  here;  for  even  then 
and  there — 


2l8  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

" 1  feels  plue, 

Und  all  dings  lonesome  seem; 
I  vish  I  vas  dot  poy  again, 

Und  dis  vas  all  a  dhream; 
I  vant  to  kiss  mine  moder  vonce, 

Und,  vhen  mine  brayer  vas  said, 
To  haf  mine  fader  dake  me  oup 

Und  tuck  me  in  mine  ped." 

In  vain;  for  the  inexorable  gulf  yawns,  seeking  to 
devour.  It  would  have  its  due.  I  hope  it  feels  bet- 
ter now;  the  obliofation  was  discharofed.  I  have  an 
acquittance  in  full. 

Can  it  be  that  this  rolling  water  is  to  be  crys- 
tallized, solidified,  and  hardened  for  roads  and  traffic, 
fun  and  frolic,  that  it  will  be  blessed  at  the  next  feast 
of  the  Epiphany,  and  that  all  winter  upon  its  icy  sur- 
face the  festive  throng  will  slide,  skate,  and  ride  ? 
Aye.  In  a  few  months  the  sledge  will  run  where 
our  steamer  rolls.  The  Gulf  Stream,  which  is  the 
tribute  of  our  new  continent  to  the  comfort  of  the 
old,  and  which,  all  along  Norway,  brings  the  tepid- 
ity of  the  Caribbean  and  Mexican  waters  to  those 
myriad  of  isles  which  w^e  saw  clad  in  June  and  July 
snow,  has  no  effect  upon  this  frosty  air  of  Finland, 
which  makes  a  "  deadlock  "  worse  than  those  which 
Congressmen  are  wont  to  bring  about,  in  days  and 
nip"hts  of  leoislation.  But  as  eveninof  comes  on,  the 
channel  narrows;  large  red  buoys  and  marshy  grounds 
on  either  side  appear,  and  at  length,  the  fortress  and 
city  of  Cronstadt !  But  for  these  reefs  of  sunken  sand 
on  the  left,  and  the  torpedoes  and  skill  of  the  en- 
gineer, and  the  narrowness  of  the  channel,  which 
clings  to  the  right  shore,  and  the  heavy,  frowning 
forts,  with  port-hole  above  port-hole  in  tiers  of  stone 
— and  but  for  other  reasons — St.  Petersburor  miorht 
have  been  the  prey  to  the  allies  in  the  war  of  1854. 
The  genius  and  courage  of  Napier  failed  before  the 


THE    LAND    OF   THE   FINNS.  219 

providence  of  the  Russian,  which  saved  the  city  of 
Peter  the  Great !  Since  then  these  precautions  have 
been  redoubled,  and  if  future  naval  fights  are  to  be 
under  water,  there  will  much  time  elapse  before  naval 
or  engineering  energy  can  repeat  at  Cronstadt,  by 
water,  what  was  done  by  the  allies  at  Sevastopol  on 
land. 

Leaving  the  arsenals,  dockyards,  wharves,  batter- 
ies, and  ships  of  this  Gibraltar  of  the  Czar — and  but 
for  which  St.  Petersbursf  mi2:ht  have  been  burned, 
like  another  Moscow,  by  its  own  hands,  rather  than  it 
should  have  fallen  into  those  of  an  invader — our 
steamer  orlides  on  what  becomes  a  summer  sea  of 
smoothness.  The  few  passengers  begin  to  appear  on 
deck  and  stretch  their  vision  for  the  first  glance  at  the 
imperial  city.  Upon  the  right,  snug  amidst  its  royal 
greenery,  lies  the  town  of  Peterhoff  and  its  domes, 
minarets,  and  imperial  palace,  with  its  splendid  woods 
and  waters.  Our  time  is  opportune  for  a  glorious 
sight,  for  it  is  sunset,  and  the  sun  goes  down  here 
at  a  discreet  hour.  Brigfht  dots  of  burnished  o-old 
begin  faintly  to  spangle  the  sky  in  front.  They  are 
domes,  half  hidden  by  the  mist  and  the  distance. 
Then  a  tall  spire,  also  gilded,  brilliant  and  needle- 
like, pierces  the  heavens !  It  is  the  Admiralty  spire, 
or  perhaps  that  of  the  Church  of  the  Fortress,  the 
Westminster  of  Russia,  the  mausoleum  of  its  dead 
kings.  A  few  moments,  and  St.  Isaac's  Church,  the 
St.  Peter's  of  Russia,  looms  up  in  majestic  and  stu- 
pendous proportions.  Its  copper  dome  is  surrounded 
by  four  others,  all  ablaze,  like  burnished  gold,  and 
surmounted  by  the  gilded  Greek  cross  which  towers 
aloft,  above  the  bronze  saints  and  angels  which  peo- 
ple its  architraves  and  its  corners,  its  roofs  and  its 
pillared  granite  cupola !     Beneath  it,  is  a  city  whose 


220  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

roofs  of  varied  hue  cover  almost  a  million  of  people; 
a  city,  the  outgrowth  from  a  swamp,  in  less  than  two 
hundred  years ! 

We  enter  the  Neva,  whose  divided  waters  flow 
in  canals  and  lagoons,  between  grand  pavements  and 
superb  palaces.  At  length  we  are  moored — alas ! 
how  soon  the  beatific  vision  vanishes — amidst  the 
traffic  and  troubles  of  trade.  We  are  to  undergo  a 
search,  the  first  yet  made  with  rigor  since  our  jour- 
ney began.  Nor  can  I  complain  of  this  rigor.  Re- 
cent events  make  police  regulations  here  necessarily 
strinc{ent.  But  was  it  not  a  little  humorous  to  see 
the  lonof-robed  customs  officers  scrutinize  the  heter- 
02:eneous  matters  in  our  trunks  ?  Nothing  was  found 
contraband,  but — what  think  you  ?  New  York  jour- 
nals! We  had  received  a  mail  at  Stockholm,  and  ex- 
pected to  read  up  fully  in  St.  Petersburg,  Some 
dozen  of  these  journals  lay  in  a  pile  in  my  wife's 
trunk.  It  would  have  done  you  good  to  see  the 
leonine  voracity  with  which  these  papers  were  seized. 
Who  was  it  that  talked  of  the  thousand  tongues  of 
the  press,  clearer  far  than  the  silver  trumpet  of  the 
jubilee — louder  than  the  voice  of  the  herald  at  the 
games  ?  These  tongues  had  not  a  word  of  protest; 
the  music  of  their  trumpet  was  frozen  like  that  of  the 
veracious  traveller.  Out  of  the  bundle  tumbled  an 
engraving  of  Charles  XII.,  the  old  enemy  of  Russia! 
Did  I  tremble  for  the  ominous  spectre  of  this  dead 
madcap  of  Sweden  ?  The  courteous  officer  handed 
it  back  with  a  gracious  smile  to  my  wife,  who  reached 
for  the  rest  of  the  bundle,  while  her  face  flushed  at 
the  indignity  to  and  the  confusion  of  her  domestic  ar- 
rangements. But,  with  a  hasty  push  and  an  impetu- 
ous "  Niett !  "  "  Niett !  " — (no,  no) — our  papers  were 
confiscated  to  the  state.    The  Sun  would  not  go  down 


THE    LAXD    or    THE    ELVI^S.  22 T 

in  this  land;  the  Tribune  was  a  voiceless  oracle;  the 
World  ceased  to  "  move,  after  all;  "  the  Times  were 
out  of  joint,  and  The  Express  came  to  a  dead  halt ! 
But  all  this  had  its  compensations;  for  soon  we  cross 
the  ofreat  bridire,  and  are  housed  in  the  Hotel  d'An- 
gleterre,  where,  though  no  papers  were  found  in  our 
expected  mail,  plenty  of  news  as  to  the  President, 
and  the  land  we  love,  were  found  in  letters,  and 
these  twelve  days  only  from  New  York. 

There  shine  into  my  windows,  in  dazzling  glitter, 
the  copper  domes  of  that  marvel  of  cathedrals,  St. 
Isaac's,  which  we  saw  from  afar,  upon  whose  sides 
and  pedestals,  encamping  night  and  day  about  us, 
are  the  angels  of  this  edifice  of  beauty!  The  guns  of 
the  citadel  thunder  out  the  memory  of  this,  the  birth- 
day of  the  Empress  of  this  vast  empire;  and,  in  spite 
of  all  ominous  auguries  to  the  contrary,  we  sojourn 
in  peace  and  safety  in  this  city  of  beauty  and  ba- 
zaars, palaces  and  pigeons,  monuments  and  minarets, 
domes  and  deviltry,  ceremonies  and  cemeteries,  ar- 
mies and  assassinations ! 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  CZAR — A  CITY  OF  PALACES  AND 
CHURCHES — COSTUMES  AND  CUSTOMS  —  THE  MINER- 
ALOGICAL  ACADEMY  —  MUSEUM  OF  ART — TOMBS  OF 
THE    DEAD    CZARS — THE    COSSACK    OF    HISTORY. 

"  I  am  a  man  of  war  and  might, 
And  know  thus  fmcch,  that  I  can  fight, 
Whether  I  am  V  th'  wrong  or  right. 
Devoutly  !  " 

Sir  John  Suckling 

WHY  does  everybody,  except  the  Russians,  call 
this  city  St.  Petersburg  ?  It  was  not  named 
after  St.  Peter,  but  Peter  the  Great.  It  is  a  mag- 
nificent city  of  palaces  and  wide  avenues.  Its  very 
hospitals  and  barracks  are  palatial,  and  there  is  no 
narrowness  to  any  thoroughfare.  Its  domes,  where 
not  painted  blue  with  golden  stars,  or  green,  are 
gilded,  and  make  the  city  seem  like  a  Constantino- 
ple new-risen  upon  the  North.  In  fact,  with  its 
canals  and  rivers,  its  streets,  columns  and  palaces,  its 
churches,  and  their  outside  and  inside  decorations,  St. 
Petersburg  combines  in  itself  and  in  its  vistas,  in  its 
plan  and  its  magnificence,  Venice,  Amsterdam,  Paris, 
and  Constantinople.  If  it  were  not  stucco  on  the 
yellow  houses,  if  it  were  only  solid  stone,  how  much 
more  impressive  would  be  its  mighty  and  superb  as- 
pect !  Only  one  palace  is  of  granite,  and  but  one 
church,   St.  Isaac's,  of  marble.     The  energy  which 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  ill 

has  reared  such  a  city  out  of  a  hoi;',  in  less  than  two 
centuries,  betokens  the  one-man  energy,  which  its 
founder  inspired  and  ilkistrated.  Still  St.  Petersburg, 
as  a  look  from  an  elevation  will  show,  unless  it  be 
approached  as  we  approached  it,  by  the  gulf  and 
river,  is  a  vast  plain,  if  not  a  swamp.  The  Neva 
saves  it.  It  is  a  splendid  river,  and  makes  its  delta 
where  the  city  stands.  It  is  a  city  of  islands,  con- 
nected by  beautiful  bridges.  Red  granite  faces  the 
banks  and  makes  the  quays  solid  structures.  Every- 
thing is  colossal,  like  the  empire.  The  informing 
genius  of  the  male  gender  is  Peter  the  Great,  and  of 
the  other  gender,  Catherine  II.  If  these  sovereigns 
were  insane,  and  they  were  very  peculiar  for  Russia, 
more  insanity  is  desirable  among  the  princes  of  the 
earth.  Peter  opened  this  city,  as  he  said,  for  a  win- 
dow for  Russia  to  look  out  of  into  civilized  Europe. 
Peter  was  a  useful  emperor,  for  Russia  and  his  time, 
although  he  did  many  diabolical  things. 

I  pretend  to  describe  nothing  but  the  superficial. 
If  I  could,  I  would  not  be  profound.  The  chance 
glances  of  a  tourist  are  liable  to  aberrations,  and  the 
best  sketches  of  foreign  observation  are  nothing  if 
not  tested  and  winnowed.  I  only  seek  to  photo- 
graph for  the  eye  of  others  what  may  fall  under 
my  glance.  To  do  this,  in  a  land  where  the  lan- 
guage is  unknown,  a  valet  de place  is  necessary.  In 
all  our  journeyings  in  Scandinavia  we  had  a  guide, 
who  was  both  "  philosopher  and  friend."  His  duties 
ceased  at  Stockholm.  I  heard  from  him  to-day,  and 
in  his  plaintive  French  he  wrote:  "Ah!  sir,  how  sad 
it  was,  on  my  route  homeward,  night  and  day,  to  get 
out  of  the  train  and  find  no  Monsieur  and  Madame 
to  care  for."  The  rogue !  I  had  to  care  for  him 
about  as  much  as  he  for  me,  and  threatened  him  with 


224  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

a  "  counter-claim  "  for  services  as  courier,  whereat 
he  smiled  in  his  blandest  way.  When  I  reached  this 
capital  of  Russia,  I  was  equally  if  not  more  fortunate 
in  a  guide.  He  is  an  Englishman,  and  Pilley  is  his 
name.  He  has  been  twenty-two  years  in  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  can  rhetoricate  on  Peter  the  Great,  and  es- 
pecially on  the  crown  and  other  jewels,  with  a  splen- 
dor of  diction  which  Murray  cannot  rival.  At  his 
beck  the  doors  of  palaces  and  museums,  churches 
and  pavilions  fly  open,  as,  at  the  blast  of  Prince  Ar- 
thur's magic  horn.  He  has  one  fear.  He  has  had  the 
impression  that  I  am  Mark  Twain,  travelling  under  a 
nojn  de  plume.  Yesterday,  he  was  disillusioned,  and 
since  then  he  eives  me  his  entire  confidence.  After 
much  hesitation  he  asked  me  about  Mr.  Twain.  He 
had  read  of  his  solemn  pranks  upon  simple  guides, 
and  asked  me  to  describe  him.  I  made  an  etching 
of  my  humorous  friend.  He  asked  if  the  humorist 
would  ever  come  this  way,  and  if  so,  whether  I  would 
not  beg  my  friend  to  look  gently  upon  him.  I  as- 
sured him  that  Mr.  Twain  was  one  of  the  most  "  in- 
nocent "  of  our  American  tourists,  and  if  he  ever 
happened  to  serve  him,  that  he  never,  never  would 
regret  it,  as  the  worst  Mr.  Twain  ever  did  was  to  in- 
vert human  nature,  and  thus  produce  a  pleasant  feel- 
ing in  the  beholder.  He  desired  me  to  present  his 
compliments  to  Mr.  Tw^ain,  and  say  that  he  would 
omit  many  of  the  usual  descriptive  formulae  for  the 
palaces  and  churches,  provided  he  was  not  placed 
upon  the  spit  and  turned  round  and  round  before 
the  slow  fire  of  Mr.  Twain's  American  humor. 

I  was  puzzled  to  know  what  I  had  said  or  done  to 
create  the  impression  that  I  was  a  disguised  Twain, 
and  this  is  the  solution:  On  visiting  Peter  the  Great's 
hut,  our  guide  called  out,  "  Peter  the  Great's  chest!" 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  225 

•'  What  a  chest  for  a  man  six  feet  nine  and  a  half 
inches ! " 

I  said  to  him,  meekly — not  looking-  at  the  little 
piece  of  furniture:  "  Did  you  say  his  chest  was  six 
feet  nine  and  a  half  inches  ?  " 

"  Now,  look  here  !     Is  your  name  Twain  ?  " 

Why  this  apprehension  of  so  genial  a  person 
as  Mark  Twain  should  have  invaded  this  distant 
realm  I  cannot  tell,  but  it  is  a  truth  that  he  is  looked 
upon  as  more  dangerous  to  society  here  than  a  Ni- 
hilist. I  wish  he  were  here,  however,  if  only  to  take 
off  and  add  to  the  oddities  of  this  peculiar  social 
order.  To  a  man  like  him  there  is  nothing  alien. 
There  is  to  him  no  Babel;  only  one  tongue.  To  him 
chickens  and  children,  knives  and  forks,  dogs  and 
donkeys  are  cosmopolitan  and  have  the  same  sweet 
language.  Men  may  jabber  in  various  idioms;  idiots 
may  vary  in  many  jabbers,  but  a  man  like  Mark 
Twain  is  understood  in  every  tongue.  Let  him  in- 
vade Russia,  "  the  great  land  animal,"  but  respect 
Pilley,  my  'umble  Hinglish  guide ! 

Does  the  reader  ask:  "Is  there  any  humor  in 
the  Russian  people,  for  a  genius  like  Twain  to 
interpret  ?  " 

I  answer- — not  as  yet  from  observation,  but  from 
history — that  the  Russian  humor  is  like  that  of  Byron, 
which  Edgar  Poe  said  was  too  savage  to  be  laughed 
at.  Some  one  calls  it  grotesque  savagery;  and  illus- 
trates it  by  the  freaks  of  Russian  princes  and  czars. 
John  the  Terrible  thought  there  was  no  church  like 
that  of  St.  Basil,  and  put  out  the  architect's  eyes,  to 
end  any  future  work  of  that  gifted  artist.  Peter  the 
Great  proposed  to  hang  the  lawyers  in  his  realm. 
He  thought  one  was  too  much.  There  is  a  story  of 
the   Empress   Annie,  who   married   off  her  favorite 


2  26  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

dwarf  or  fool  in  an  ice  palace  and  gave  them  an  icy 
marriage  bed,  where  they  froze  to  death.  This  I 
have  seen  pictured  in  fine  color  and  delineation.  It 
was  a  Russian  pleasantry.  Catharine  II.  slaughtered 
many  of  the  men  whom  she  did  not  love — out  of  a 
vagary  of  fun.  Most  of  the  people  here  hold  their 
revels  in  graveyards.  Peter  stuffed  the  skin  of  one 
of  his  favorite  servants, — a  tall  fellow, — and  put  him 
in  a  museum.  Paul  issued  a  ukase  against  shoe- 
strings and  round  hats.  He  was  fond  of  colors,  and 
had  fantastic  hues  painted  on  bridges  and  gates.  It 
is  hardly  mirthful  to  make  an  eagle  out  of  gunflints 
and  swords,  or  portray  a  group  in  heaven  of  Rus- 
sians looking  down  on  Jews,  Germans,  and  negroes. 
But  this  is  Muscovite  merriment.  In  the  Moscow 
markets  the  slaughtered  animals  are  stuffed  with 
sawdust  and  look  odd.  It  is  said  of  the  Emperor 
Paul  that  he  dug  up  the  bones  of  those  who  mur- 
dered his  father,  to  pulverize  them,  and  blow  them  to 
the  winds.  He  arrested  an  Englishman  for  not  tak- 
ing off  his  hat  to  Royalty,  and  ordered  him  to  wear 
magnifying  glasses.  This  was  jolly,  but  exceptional, 
for  the  Russian  is  not  adept  in  making  genial  fun. 
The  climate  is  not  genial. 

Let  it  be  recorded,  for  the  instruction  of  those 
who  study  nations  without  going  abroad, — who.  like 
the  famous  Frenchman,  make  a  tour  of  the  world  in 
their  own  chamber,  that  it  is  not  wise  to  discard 
the  observations  of  transient  and  superficial  travel. 
Why  ?  Because  after  a  time  the  scenes  presented 
for  observation  become  too  familiar,  and  become 
merged  in  the  general  mass,  so  that  particular  de- 
scription is  next  to  impossible. 

Therefore  it  is  best  to  take  off  on  the  instant,  and 
before  scenes  become  hackneyed,  the  features  of  a 


THE    LAND    OF    'nifi    CZAR.  227 

people  and  country.  In  this  a  i^uidc  like  Pillcy  is  in- 
valuable. It  is  a  proper  thing-  in  travelling  to  notice 
that  which  is  unfamiliar,  outre,  and  peculiar,  and 
for  this  a  guide  of  the  place  is  indispensable.  This 
city,  with  its  Northern  and  Oriental  costumes,  its 
soldiers  of  so  many  tribes,  and  its  riches  of  va- 
rious quality,  is  replete  with  that  which  would  elicit 
our  attention  by  its  novelty,  A  catalogue  of  such 
peculiarities  would  fill  a  chapter.  I  will  attempt  a 
brief  list  of  the  more  salient  features:  Long  coats 
are  worn  by  a  large  portion  of  the  people,  and  of  va- 
rious colors  and  cuts.  The  soldiers,  even  in  mid- 
summer, don  their  heavy  gray  greatcoats.  A  large 
portion  wear  baggy  breeches  tucked  into  top-boots. 
The  white  cap  is  a  badge  of  the  naval,  as  well,  I 
believe,  as  of  some  other  service.  The  old-fash- 
ioned cloth  cap  we  used  to  wear  in  America  is  very 
common  here,  though  drivers,  soldiers,  and  others 
have  a  hat  or  head-dress  of  their  own.  While,  of 
course,  many  wear  the  French,  English,  or  American 
suit,  both  women  and  men — or,  rather,  ladies  and 
gentlemen — there  are  a  class  of  women  who  have 
the  handkerchief  on  the  head,  which  is  common 
to  Norway,  Sweden,  and  northern  climes.  The 
nurses  —  from  some  provinces  —  have  a  curiously- 
worked  head-dress,  more  precious  in  needle-work 
and  stuff  than  their  avocation  would  seem  to  war- 
rant. Colors  predominate — and  they  are  gener- 
ally violent  ones.  I  saw  three  hundred  pictures,  by 
one  artist,  of  the  costumes  of  all  the  provinces  of  the 
empire — mostly  pictures  of  pretty  girls.  It  was  a 
wonderful  illustration  of  the  length  and  breadth  of  this 
vast  realm.  The  bodice  seems  to  be  the  special  part 
of  the  dress,  next  to  the  head-dress,  which  called  for 
the  Qfenius  of  invention.     We  were  ushered  into  a 


2  28  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

gallery,  where  the  uniforms  of  the  past  and  present 
armies  of  all  the  Russians, — never  less  than  a  mil- 
lion of  men — were  displayed.  It  was  an  interesting 
sight.  The  old  uniform  of  Peter  the  Great  and 
Alexander  I.  down  to  the  latest  Caucasian  sol- 
dier, with  his  cartridges  in  highly  ornate  style  upon 
his  breast,  and  including  the  uniforms  of  other  na- 
tions, were  here  on  exhibition.  Here  and  there, 
and  especially  at  night,  at  the  gateways  of  the 
houses,  public  and  private,  you  will  see  policemen  or 
watchmen,  wrapped  in  furs  or  sheepskins.  The 
waiters  in  our  dining-room  are  Tartars,  and  are 
dressed  in  swallow-tails !  They  are  trustworthy,  as 
they  are  Mohamedans,  and  when  you  send  out  for 
wine  they  are  safer  transportation  than  the  imbib- 
ing Russian.  I  have  noticed  the  "  bell-crown  hat" 
and  long  pelisse  of  the  drosky- drivers,  and  the 
red-shirted  workmen,  who  invariably  place  the  vest 
of  black  over  their  red  under-gear,  but  allow  the 
red  blouse  to  extend  several  inches  below  the  vest. 
The  veriest  beggar-girl  wears  a  slipper,  if  she  wear 
any,  with  a  high  slim  heel,  set  in  the  middle  of  the 
foot — modelled  after  that  of  the  pretty  wife  of  Czar 
Paul.  Modern  fashion  copies  it  in  Paris  and  New 
York. 

Everywhere  we  find  an  old  English  clock — not 
merely  in  palace  and  bank,  in  hotel  and  pavilion, 
but  in  church  and  state.  "Why  is  this?"  we  en- 
quire. The  guide  cannot  tell,  except  that  it  has  a 
sort  of  venerableness,  growing  out  of  an  old  custom. 
Perhaps  it  was  Peter  who  dicl  it  first,  for  all  he  does 
is  as  sacred  as  the  relics  of  a  saint,  or  as  the 
pigeons  which  fly  unharmed  about  the  churches, 
streets,  and  buildings.  Perhaps  this  clock  has  a  sa- 
cred meaning;  for  it  pronounces  the  movement  of 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  229 

lime, — Forever!  Never!  Never!  Forever! — with  its 
click,  click,  click!  Is  it  the  skeleton  at  the  feast,  to 
warn  of  the  lliij^ht  of  time — a  horolo^-e  rather  of  eter- 
nity ?  And  the  pigeons?  Why  are  they  so  numer- 
ous ?  I  counted  a  hundred  feeding  in  front  of  St. 
Isaac's  yesterday,  and  while  dining  in  my  room  one 
came  to  the  open  window  and  turned  its  little  cunning 
eye  at  me,  so  that  I  began  at  once  to  share  my  bread 
and  rice  with  it.  The  solution  is  that  the  pigeon  is 
regarded  as  the  symbol  of  the  incarnation  of  the 
Holy  Ghost— the  dove  which  descended  upon  the 
head  of  our  baptized  Saviour,  and,  therefore,  it  is  a 
religious  bird,  and  may  inhabit  the  gorgeous  domes 
and  pinnacles  of  these  Greek  minsters. 

Everybody  here,  except  strangers,  observes  the 
ceremonies  of  the  Greek  Church,  and  bows  and 
prays  at  every  shrine  on  the  street  and  every  church. 
These  shrines  are  in  all  the  offices,  including  our 
banking  office,  and  at  the  hotels.  Walking  in  the 
street  from  our  hotel  yesterday,  I  was  suddenly 
arrested  by  a  bow  of  graceful  dignity,  which  I  sup- 
posed was  intencied  for  me;  for  I  forgot  that  I  had 
left  polite  Norway.  What  was  my  surprise,  when  I 
found  the  salutation  was  directed  to  the  angels  on 
the  dome  of  St.  Isaac's !  These  genuflexions  and 
crosses  are  the  devout  duty,  of  all  sizes,  and  sexes, 
and  conditions.  This  morning  I  saw  a  child  of  two 
years  making  its  little  cross  before  a  church,  as  if  it 
had  been  used  to  it  from  birth. 

The  drosky  is  an  odd-looking,  fleet  sort  of  cab, 
which  barely  seats  two.  It  is  near  the  ground,  and 
if  it  upsets,  it  is  safer  than  when  it  is  going.  Its 
speed  over  the  boulders  is  immense.  Its  driver  is 
good,  and  good-humored.  The  carts,  wagons,  drays, 
as  well  as  droskies,  have  a  peculiar  harness  for  the 


230  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

horse.  The  eminent  characteristic  of  the  establish- 
ment is  a  sort  of  harness  or  yoke,  about  four  or  five 
feet  above  the  animal's  shoulders.  This  is  not  pe- 
culiar to  Russia,  but  it  is  here  developed  in  a  higher 
degree.  It  rests  on  the  shafts,  and  somehow,  as  I 
believe  {loqiior  non  incxpcThts),  the  horse  has  freer 
motion  and  an  easier  draught  under  this  yoke.  It 
does  not  strain  him  about  the  vitalities,  like  our  har- 
ness. He  seems  to  run  loosely,  as  under  a  canopy 
of  green !  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  yoke  is 
green,  though  many  of  tiie  yokes  are  thus  painted  and 
with  emblems  and  owners'  names  on  them.  While 
watching  a  caravan  of  these  yokes  which  do  not  op- 
press, I  had  occasion  to  look  through  a  long  line  of 
them,  fifty  in  number,  carrying  the  rye  flour  in  sacks 
across  the  city,  and  discovered  another  peculiarity. 
There  is  a  stout  rope  from  the  horse's  shoulders  to 
the  front  a.xle,  which  extends  some  two  feet  out  of  the 
hub  to  hold  these  extra  traces.  The  strain  seemed 
to  be  upon  these  traces  as  much  as  upon  the  shafts; 
and  just  as  I  was  driving  in  a  hurried  way — for  our 
driver  was  dashing  at  the  usual  pace — one  of  our 
wheels  came  off  and  rolled  a  rod,  and  down  we  were! 
Thanks,  to  the  good  gray  team  and  some  prompti- 
tude, we  escaped  harm;  while  sympathies  all  about 
from  the  gathered  crowd  showed  that  there  was 
much  kindness  upon  the  street. 

On  the  Neva  we  see  boats  which  are  used  as 
magazines,  till  the  lumber  or  hay  is  sold.  They  are 
thatched  with  straw;  while  there  are  vessels  of  huge 
rude  make,  like  our  old  "Orleans"  boats  on  the  con- 
fluents of  the  Ohio,  which  used  to  be  improvised  to 
run  out,  "on  a  freshet  " — flour,  hoop-poles,  and 
crockery,  along  the  Mississippi  to  its  mouth,  and 
then   to   be   sold   for  its   timber.     Ag^ain,  there  are 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  23 1 

seen  vessels  from  the  Volga,  with  circular  target- 
looking  ensigns  and  Hags  of  various  hues,  quite 
foppy  and  exquisite  amidst  these  heavy-laden  lug- 
gers from  the  interior.  The  entrepot  for  these 
barges  of  grain,  such  as  wheat,  oats,  barley  and 
corn,  seems  to  be  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city;  for 
there  they  lie  densely  packed,  side  by  side,  close  to 
and  far  beyond  the  long,  long  rows  of  warehouses — • 
far  beyond  our  vision — numberless;  while  the  sacred 
pigeons,  by  the  hundreds,  flock  in  their  wake  for 
food,  unmolested  and  unharmed. 

We  attended  a  fire  here.  Fires  are  very  com- 
mon; but  as  the  house  walls  are  some  three  or  four 
feet  thick,  fires  are  not  extensive  in  their  ravages. 
The  fire-houses  are  of  the  customary  yellow,  with 
high  lookouts,  and  black  walls,  to  indicate  the  place. 
No  bells  sound  alarm.  The  engines  are  like  ours; 
but  when  they  go  to  the  fire,  some  half-dozen  wag- 
ons with  hogsheads  of  water  in  them  follow ! 

The  Russians  drink  enormously.  Their  "  particu- 
lar vanity"  is  made  of  grain.  It  is  called  ''vodka!' 
But  the  peculiarity  is  not  in  the  drinking;  but  when 
drunk  and  reeling,  they  are  invariably  affectionate. 
They  are  not  quarrelsome  or  violent.  They  kiss, 
and  never  kick  or  strike.  We  saw  many  rolling 
over  each  other  in  loving  embrace,  even  upon  the 
streets.  Women  are  no  exception  to  this  general 
saturnalia  on  Sundays  and  fete  days.  It  was  simply 
pitiful — the  sights  we  saw.  Wliy  is  it?  We  hear 
from  others  that  drunkenness  is  not  disorraceful,  be- 
cause  the  people  have  been  so  lately  enfranchised. 
But  is  that  the  only  or  best  solution  ? 

Cucumbers  are  generally  eaten  whole,  on  the 
table  and  in  the  market,  as  we  would  eat  apples. 
Sometimes  the  workmen  slice  them  up  and  lay  them 


232  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

on  their  black  bread,  of  which  they  consume  six 
pounds  on  an  average  per  day.  So  constant  a  veg- 
etable diet  has  produced  effects  which  any  physician 
will  infer,  as  the  only  meat  diet  of  the  masses  of 
these  workmen  is  some  odorous  refuse  of  pale,  flabby 
soaked  beef,  even  including  the  worst  of  the  viscera 
and  organs !  I  went  through  a  market  where  this 
sort  of  stuff  was  sold  and  eaten.  The  stench  was 
horrible,  and  all  around  and  on  the  grround,  we 
passed — under  admonitions  from  the  guard,  "  Mind 
your  watch,  sir!" — between  and  over  the  worst  lot  of 
human  cattle  it  was  possible  to  conceive.  Their  long 
hair  is  unkempt,  their  clothes  are  tattered,  their  shoes 
are  bundles  of  dirty  sheepskin  or  rags,  and  their  faces 
wild  and  besotted.  They  are  in  strange  contrast  with 
the  palatial  pictures  of  the  next  two  chapters. 

St.  Petersburg  has  no  end  of  attractions,  but  we 
have  taken  to  new  modes  of  observation.  Palaces 
and  pictures  are  our  recreation  at  odd  times;  they 
are  not  to  be  seen  or  discussed  very  elaborately,  for 
there  is  no  limitation  to  their  number.  Scientific  and 
humane  objects  absorb  our  first  day.  We  begin  with 
the  mineralogical  academy,  where  everything,  if  not 
taught  by  sight  and  example,  is  thus  illustrated. 
The  specimens  of  crystals,  jewels,  and  minerals  of  all 
kinds — rare,  precious,  and  useful— which  are  there 
presented,  confuse  the  sense.  The  richest  ores  and 
stones  of  the  Ural  Mountains  are  placed  in  glasses 
and  upon  frames  with  nicest  heed  and  order.  The 
Ural  Mountains,  especially,  are  on  exhibition,  with 
their  opulence.  Not  the  lapis-lazuli,  malachite,  topaz 
or  ruby,  garnets,  sapphires,  turquoises,  pearls,  and 
diamonds  of  all  colors,  shapes,  and  values — but  the 
rarest  and  largest  of  these  aristocrats  of  the  inner 
chambers  of  the  earth,  such  as  the  beryl — the  finest 


rilE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  233 

specimen  of  the  world — arc  here  exhibited.  Besides 
these,  the  opal,  with  its  richest  colors,  is  side  by  side 
with  the  turmalin,  a  crystal  of  rarity  and  of  utility 
for  spectral  analysis;  while  a  pure  nut'^'get  of  gold,  of 
eighty  pounds,  is  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  These 
productions  are  shown  in  the  rough,  from  the  matrix, 
so  that  by  one  glance  you  may  see  the  precious  off- 
spring, which  are  born  only  after  millions  of  years 
of  gestation  "  in  which  men  come  and  go  like  rain- 
bows " — passing  through  fires  of  gradation  and  cy- 
cles of  development  so  as  to  perfect  their  crystals 
and  rear  their  young  jewels  ! 

In  other  rooms  are  models  of  the  very  mines  in 
sections,  showing  where  these  rare  children  are  born, 
and  how  they  lie  asleep  in  their  sunless  homes;  and 
finally,  how,  by  the  ingenuity  and  invention  of  man, 
they  are  brought  forth  to  give  their  quiet  capabili- 
ties of  light.  From  this  school  on  the  banks  of  the 
Neva  what  advantages  are  derived  !  What  a  school 
for  teachers  and  professors.  As  we  are  the  great 
mining  nation,  will  it  not  be  well  to  copy  what  is 
good  in  this  Russian  establishment  for  our  instruc- 
tion and  benefit  ?  Would  it  be  believed  that  under 
this  building,  or  under  its  large  court,  there  are  sam- 
ple mines  whereby  every  subterranean  object  of 
mineral  beauty  and  value  is  revealed  to  us. 

We  light  our  wax  tapers  and  enter  the  vaults. 
Our  guide  points  out  the  formations  of  coal,  iron, 
and  copper— the  latter  running  into  its  relation  with 
malachite — with  here  and  there  leads  of  silver  and 
gold,  besides  all  the  strata  and  crystals  for  the  gems 
with  which  the  royal,  rich,  and  vain  of  this  earth 
adorn  themselves.  After  this  survey  of  Muscovite 
mineral  resources,  can  we  wonder  at  the  millions  and 
millions  of  rubles'  worth  of  orems  which  adorn  the 


2  34  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

palaces  and  churches,  the  diadems,  crowns,  dresses 
and  images,  and  which  ghtter  in  polished  splendoi 
through  the  thousands  of  glass  cases  as  specimens  of 
the  fabulous  wealth  of  barbaric  pearls  and  gold,  which 
far  outshine  the  magic  product  of  Aladdin,  or  the 
wealth  of  Ormus  and  of  Ind,  and  which  this  new 
capital  and  the  old  capital,  Moscow,  display  ? 

A  half-mile  of  this  underground  survey  of  the 
mineralogical  wealth  of  Siberia,  or  rather  Russia,  and 
we  enter  the  street  agfain.  The  orreat  statues  in 
front  of  the  school  symbolize  the  meaning  of  the 
work  within.  It  is  Hercules  struggling  with  An- 
taeus. The  latter  touches  the  earth,  and  is  made 
strong  by  the  contact — strong  in  that  knowledge  of 
the  beauties  and  virtues,  not  of  the  ground  merely, 
but  under  the  ground,  which  makes  the  mind  a  cas- 
ket of  precious  opulence,  full  of  concentrated  and 
brilliant  jewels. 

But  is  this  education,  in  the  largest  sense,  or  is 
it  superficial,  after  all  ?  Is  this  School  of  Mines  a 
fair  exponent  or  sample  of  the  extended  scientific 
culture  provided  by  the  Russian  Government?  Yes; 
but  it  is  carried  much  further.  In  all  departments 
there  is  the  same  completeness  and  exhaustiveness. 
Alexander  II.  threw  the  colleges  open  to  all,  and 
founded  scholarship  for  poor  students.  Is  this  "  over- 
education  ? "  Can  there  be  too  much  intellectual 
development!  Still,  he  says  that  the  causes  of  Rus- 
sian or  imperial  disquietude  are  found  in  this  over- 
education;  and  thus  he  reasons:  One  can  be  thor- 
oughly educated  in  the  higher  branches  in  Russia 
for  fifty  dollars,  where  in  other  countries  it  costs 
tenfold.  The  Government  provides  a  subvention  for 
high  education.  Even  peasants'  sons  are  thus  en- 
abled to  obtain  a  refinement  of  education  far  beyond 
that  of  their  parents,  and  beyond  the  needs  of  so- 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  235 

cicty.  Such  educated  people  are  iKjt  needed,  not 
even  for  teaching,  as  the  schools  are  not  "  common  " 
or  general  for  the  masses.  Therefore,  he  argues 
that  "education"  is  overdone.  When  these  students 
attain  their  pitch  of  discipline  (so  reasons  my  friend), 
they  grow  discontented,  as  there  are  no  avenues  for 
the  use  of  their  faculties  and  equipment.  Their 
health  failing,  by  application  too  sedulous,  they  grow 
morose  and  misanthropic;  and,  consequently,  feeling 
their  degraded  position  beside  others  not  so  well 
cultured,  they  join  Nihilism;  and  so  we  read  of  the 
student  class  being  the  dangerous  one !  As  an  illus- 
tration, the  assassin  of  the  Czar  is  cited.  He  was  in 
a  lowly  condition;  and,  after  acquiring  all  he  could 
by  diligence  in  his  province,  he  came  to  St.  Peters- 
burg to  perfect  his  studies.  His  father  was  the  agent 
here  of  a  timber  establishment,  and  of  no  station  of 
consequence.  The  son  gave  his  life,  as  others  will, 
or  do,  to  destroy  a  system,  or  its  head,  which  for- 
bids them  to  live  according  to  their  own  idea  of  their 
merits. 

"  What  is  the  remedy  }  "  I  ask  of  my  friend. 

"  Let  the  Government  generously  educate  the 
masses — not  over-educate  the  few;  and  thus  elevate 
all,  and  provide  the  avenues  to  employment  for  those 
ready  to  teach  and  unfitted  for  field-drudgery." 

Whether  this  be  a  correct  statement  of  the  situ- 
ation, I  cannot  avouch.  I  gather  the  facts  and  in- 
ferences from  an  observant  Encrlishman,  who  has 
been  here  some  years.  It  is  a  new  phase  of  the 
assassination  solution,  and  as  such  I  recount  it.  My 
own  observation  already  is,  that  great  necessity  ex- 
ists for  the  elevation  or  training  of  those  relieved 
from  serfdom,  as  the  church  has  not  sufficient  power 
to  accomplish  it ;  and  the  poorer  classes  here  are  la- 
mentably dissolute  and  reckless,  but  they  are  not  the 


236  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

"dangerous  class."  They  are  as  the  lazzaroni  were  in 
Neapolitan  Bomba's  rule — firm  props  of  the  throne, 
and  ready  to  serve  the  Czar  at  a  moment's  warning 
aofainst  rebellious  intellirence. 

"  Do  you  go  down-stairs,  and  say  some  hard 
words  against  the  Emperor  or  his  family,"  said  my 
guide,  "  to  these  drosky-drivers,  and  you  would  be 
torn  from  limb  to  latchet.  They  adore  the  family, 
and  the  more  it  is  martyred,  the  more  they  adore  it." 

Everywhere  we  perceive  evidences  of  the  venera- 
tion paid  to  this  family,  not  only  at  the  beautiful 
little  chapel  along  the  canal  and  street — now  "  no 
thoroughfare"  for  vehicles — where  the  bombs  ex- 
ploded and  the  Czar  was  killed,  but  wherever  his  pic- 
ture is  seen.  The  reio-nins;-  house  seems  to  have  a  hold 
on  the  Russian  people.  The  grievances  which  make 
the  land  socially  and  politically  volcanic  are  not  ap- 
parent; but  I  think  most  of  them  were  written  by 
Jefferson,  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence;  and 
the  heaviest  grievance  relates  to  the  denial  of  jus- 
tice. It  is  the  old,  old  story  of  revolution;  and  it 
has  never  been  told  so  aptly  as  by  George  William 
Curtis  in  his  eloquent  defence  of  the  real  citadel  of  a 
nation — its  conscience,  and  not  its  wealth.  "  Rome," 
he  exclaimed,  "  was  never  so  rich  as  when  she  was 
dying;  the  Netherlands  never  so  powerful  as  when 
they  were  poorest.  Assyria,  Greece,  and  Egypt  had 
art,  opulence,  and  splendor.  Corn  enough  grew  in 
the  valley  of  the  Nile.  The  Syrian  sword  was  as 
sharp  as  any.  .  They  were  merchant  princes,  and  the 
clouds  in  the  sky  were  rivalled  by  their' sails  upon 
the  sea.  They  were  soldiers,  and  their  frown  fright- 
ened the  world.  '  Soul,  take  thine  ease,'  those  em- 
pires said,  languid  with  excess  of  luxury  and  life. 
Remember   the   kinij  who    had    built    his    c^randest 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  237 

palace,  ami  was  to  occupy  it  upon  tlic  morrow; 
but  when  the  morrow  came  the  palace  was  a  pile 
of  ruins.  'Woe  is  me!'  cried  the  king-.  'Who  is 
guilty  of  this  crime  ? '  '  There  is  no  crime,'  replied 
the  sage  at  his  side;  '  but  the  mortar  was  made  of 
sand  and  water  only,  and  the  builders  forgot  to  put 
in  the  lime.'  So  fell  the  old  empires,  because  the 
governors  forgot  to  put  justice  into  their  govern- 
ments." Recent  revelations  fully  justify  my  sweep- 
ing remark  as  to  the  denial  of  justice  by  the  Russian 
government. 

If  it  were  necessary  to  particularize,  read  the 
points  made  by  Birwanski,  an  imperial  state  attor- 
ney, who  was  sent  on  a  special  mission  to  report 
the  scandalous  outrages  at  Orenburg.  He  was  sus- 
pended for  telling  the  truth.  Thousands  of  those 
official  miscreants,  "  who  clutch  foaming  champagne 
flasks  in  their  blood-stained  hands,  wallow  in  every 
sort  of  enjoyment  and  lead  complacent  lives."  His 
picture  of  the  courts  and  the  prisons,  the  tortures 
and  the  starvation,  was  a  disclosure,  which  might  well 
make  a  Sclav  of  the  lowest  type  furious  with  revolu- 
tion and  revenge.  The  Nihilist,  like  the  Phantom 
of  Cleonice,  forever  reminds  despotic  power,  that 
might  is  not  right,  and  that  it  should  cultivate  jus- 
tice, as  the  Avenger  is  sure:  "Tu  cole  justitiam; 
teque  atque  alios  manet  ultor." 

To  this  denial  is  added  a  debauched  system,  com- 
pared with -which,  in  some  parts  of  the  country,  the 
most  corrupt  ways  of  Oriental  luxury  and  slavery — 
ancient  and  modern — are  tolerable.  The  political, 
moral,  and  judicial  air  of  Russia  breeds  secret  asso- 
ciation. Societies  for  the  suppression  of  Nihilism  will 
arise — are  arising.  They  are  aristocratic;  but  they 
lack  the  martyr-element.    The  aristocracy  will  not  die 


238  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

for  the  Czar,  as  Nihilists  will  and  do  die.  to  annihilate 
him.  Besides,  the  grandees  of  the  Golden  Book  of 
Russia  were  shocked  at  the  condescension  of  the 
Czar.  He  used  to  shake  hands  with  ordinary  peo- 
ple; and  it  is  said  that  his  grip  is  tremendous,  as 
he  bends  easily  a  horseshoe  in  one  hand ! 

We  visited  the  Church  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul. 
It  is  inside  the  fortification,  and  is  a  sort  of  dynastic 
church  and  royal  mausoleum.  There  are  the  tombs 
of  the  dead  Czars  of  this  empire.  All  these  tombs 
are  decorated  with  offerings,  medals,  and  trophies. 
But  first,  I  was  attracted  to  that  of  Alexander  II., 
the  late  Czar.  His  white  marble  tablet,  which  is 
above  the  body  in  the  crypt  below,  was  hidden  un- 
der roses  and  other  floral  offerings  from  all  parts  of 
all  the  Russias.  These  tenders  of  sympathy  turned 
my  thoughts  toward  home  and  toward  moralizing. 
The  horrid  manner  of  his  taking  off,  like  the  deep 
damnation  of  the  attempt  upon  our  President,  has 
called  for  more  devotion  to  the  object  of  this  frenzied 
zeal  against  the  laws  of  mankind.  We  ask  of  our- 
selves and  of  the  most  zealous  opponents  of  abso- 
lutism, cui  bono?  Does  it  not  add  more  devotees 
to  the  ranks  of  the  imperialist  rulers  of  Russia? 
Such  devotion  as  these  offerings  show,  and  such  as 
we  saw  to-day  at  the  chapel  where  the  deed  was 
done,  are  the  logical  outcome  of  this  diabolism. 
Martyrs  are  next  to  demi-gods.  Who  dare  crit- 
icise their  acts  ?  Who  dare,  even  in  America,  to 
call  in  question,  with  that  determined  spirit  of  dis- 
cussion demanded  at  all  times,  the  acts  of  the  head 
of  an  Administration,  after  it  has  been  elevated  by 
the  bullet  of  the  fiend? 

It  is  not  without  interest  that  we  follow  our  guide 
through  this  church,  so  glittering  in  precious  stones 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  239 

and  rare  pictures — mementos  of  the  dead  Czars  and 
their  families.  They  have  played  (j^reat  parts  in  Asia 
and  Eur()[)e,  and  made  their  mark  in  tlie  last  few 
centuries.  Still  I  could  not  htilp  but  echo  the  verse, 
that — 

"I  would  rather  be  some  poor  player  on  scant  hire, 
Than  King  among  the  old — who  play  no  more." 

And  so  rejoicing"  in  my  modest  Democratic  Re- 
publicanism, and  with  malice  toward  none  and  char- 
ity toward  all,  I  left  these  precincts  with  many  lessons 
at  heart. 

We  visit  the  Museum  of  Art,  not  to  see  the  rare 
works  of  France,  Italy,  Germany,  or  Holland — though 
they  are  here — but  those  which  have  the  raciness  of 
the  soil,  or  rather  are  racy  of  the  races  thereof.  This 
is  a  good  time  for  this  visit,  as  a  recent  charitable 
occasion  has  drawn  from  all  parts  of  the  empire  the 
best  works  of  Russian  artists.  Here  they  are !  Bat- 
tles and  portraits,  landscapes,  real  and  ideal,  sea 
scenes  and  Circassians — peasant  life  and  classic  lore 
— and  some  of  "imagination  all  compact,"  and  each 
well  delineated,  but  with  characteristic  and  national 
high  color!  An  endless  maze  of  genuine  genius  is 
here,  and  yet  but  a  fragment  of  the  display  which 
we  are  yet  to  interweave  into  the  tapestry  of  Rus- 
sian observation. 

"What  next?"  I  cry  to  our  indefatigable  guide. 
Without  deigning  to  reply,  so  rapidly  does  he  carry 
us  about,  he  dashes  us  out  of  one  broad  street,  with 
strange  names  and  semi-Oriental  letters,  and  into 
another,  until  we  reach  the  rear  of  a  building  whose 
entrance  fills  the  fancy  of  Shakespeare's  apothecary- 
shop,  with  its  stuffed  crocodiles,  snakes,  birds,  and 
beasts. 


240  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

"All!"  he  exclaims — for  he  is  a  scientific  guide 
— "  this  is  prehistoric  as  well  as  posthumous.  All 
the  Saurians  are  here  in  skeleton — amphibious  mon- 
sters of  other  ages,  when  Siberia  was  tropical.  Here 
are  birds  of  every  kind,  from  a  perfectly  white  pea- 
cock to  the  extinct  dodo !  " 

Here  I  stop  our  vivacious  and  learned  guide — on 
the  dodo.  Ichthyosaurians,  and  megalasaurians,  and 
all  these  curiosities  of  another  era  have  something 
akin  to  them  now.  The  mastodon  is  but  an  exao^- 
gerated  elephant.  It  may  have  been  possible  in 
the  recent  stone  or  flint  ages,  when  our  antetypes 
adventured  from  Timbuctoo  to  Siberia  to  obtain 
rocks,  harder  than  iron,  for  the  manipulations  of  in- 
dustry. Let  them  wait — for  have  we  not  the  veri- 
table dodo  here  ?  Alas !  it  is  only  the  picturesque 
presentment.  Our  guide  sa)'s  that  its  eggs  were  of 
such  good  eating  that  the  epicurean  hogs  in  Java — 
where  it  was  last  at  home — consumed  the  last  ^%%\ 
and  so  the  dodo  died,  never  to  be  resurrected,  except 
in  the  pictures  of  fancy. 

One  more  institution  gives  another  glimpse  of  this 
eventful  life  at  this  metropolis  of  the  great  empire. 
It  is  the  royal  stables.  There  are  no  horses  here  at 
present,  as  this  is  the  summer  season.  Royalty  is 
out  of  town  with  its  usual  equipages;  but  the  royal 
carriages  are  seen  in  all  their  state  and  richness  of 
decoration.  We  enter  the  gateway,  and  come  near 
stumbling  over  some  boxes. 

"  What  are  these  ?  "  asks  our  cruide  of  the  warden. 
They  contain  the  funeral  plumes  and  dresses  for  the 
obsequies  of  the  late  Czar,  not  yet  laid  away.  Some 
crape  and  other  memorials  of  the  fatal  act  are  seen 
bundled  up  and  about;  but  we  have  little  time  to 
think  of  the  perils  of  power,  and  are  called  to  exam- 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  24 1 

ine,  one  by  one,  the  i^ilJed  equipages.  This  one  is 
the  carriage  of  Catharine  II.;  that,  of  Paul,  who  was 
strangled  by  the  nobles;  the  other  that  of  Alexander 
I.;  that  one  trimmed  with  gold  and  blue  is  that  of 
Nicholas,  and  so  on.  Each  has  its  story  of  funeral, 
coronation,  or  marriage,  in  which  czars  and  regalities 
come  and  go,  even  as  the  poor  horses  which  played 
their  parts  in  these  historic  pageants  have  come  and 
gone.  Many  of  these  carriages  are  rich  in  jewels 
and  stones  of  every  quality  of  richness.  One  is 
trimmed  inside  with  diamonds.  The  panellings  are 
of  silver,  and  so  are  the  heavy  mountings  of  the  har- 
ness, for  three  hundred  horses,  hanging  in  their  show- 
cases. Outside  and  inside  these  vehicles,  where  lux- 
ury and  opulence  glisten,  are  the  crystal  and  topaz, 
ruby  and  beryl,  such  as  in  their  native,  unpol- 
ished dress  we  perceived  in  the  College  of  Mines. 
Was  not  this  double  row  of  stately  vehicles  a  vista 
of  historic  moment,  running  down  through  past  years 
and  throuo;h  the  lono-  aisle  of  metallic  and  mineral 
splendor  ? 

Our  guide  was  not  a  Russian,  but  he  seemed  to 
be  proud  of  these  trophies  of  regal  display,  and  we 
republicans  looked  on,  and  wondered !  Upon  some 
of  the  panels  of  these  coaches  are  paintings  whose 
value  could  not  be  measured  if  covered  with  dia- 
monds. The  best  French  painters  had  decorated 
one,  which  Queen  Elizabeth  had  owned,  and  which, 
later,  Dagmar,  the  beautiful,  had  rejoiced  in  upon  her 
wedding.  It  was  huge  in  size  for  a  carriage,  equal 
to  timber-wheels  in  solidity,  and,  as  for  loveliness, 
"fit  for  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem"  upon  their  bridal 
day.  Then  we  examine  the  sleighs  of  various  shape 
and  make;  some  for  carnivals  and  some  for  state  oc- 
casions, and  one  of  rough  aspect  made  by  Peter  the 


242  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Great  himself,  and  left  by  him  at  Archangel.  A 
o-rand  omnibus-sleigh,  in  which  the  royal  ladies  were 
wont  to  have  their  jolly  rides  from  the  city  to  the 
country  palaces,  is  shown.  It  is  so  arranged  that 
from  its  sides  and  end,  long  red  drapery  is  spread 
upon  the  snow,  and  upon  this  the  cavaliers  sit  as  the 
horses  dash  them  over  the  snow-hidden  roads.  It 
was  a  part  of  the  royal  fun  in  other  days  for  the  fes- 
tive females  to  drop  the  drapery  of  their  sleigh  and 
the  cavalier  into  the  soft,  dry  snow  wherewith  these 
loner  winters  are  blessed.  Whether  these  mournful 
days  of  royalty  contribute  to  such  diversions  is  a  mat- 
ter of  doubt. 

What  sights  to  our  unaccustomed  eyes  are  on 
every  side  as  we  drive !  Little  Tartar  children 
dressed  in  green;  the  soldiers  with  heavy  coats  and 
long  spears,  from  the  tribes  of  the  Don,  the  Cossack 
of  history;  huzzars  of  red,  gay  uniform;  Caucasian 
soldiers,  with  dresses  as  gay  as  the  Spahis  of  Algiers 
— with  the  various  large-breeched  natives,  in  top- 
boots,  or  with  red  shirts  only  covered  by  a  dark  vest 
— add  to  the  spectacle. 

The  avenues  are  wide,  and  lined  with  high  yellow 
buildings,  palaces,  and  government  edifices,  all  pro- 
portionate to  the  immense  empire  of  the  two  conti- 
nents. The  signs  look  quaint  with  their  peculiar  let- 
tering, and  the  houses,  which  rarely  have  doors  in 
front,  are  unusual  in  their  aspect.  The  sheet-iron 
roofs  painted  green  and  red;  the  police  in  their  green 
uniform  and  sword;  the  rivers  and  canals,  full  of 
strange  craft  darting  about  in  active  business,  some 
from  far  inland,  laden  with  grain,  and  some  bearing 
passengers  over  the  Neva  and  under  its  bridges — all 
these  odd  pictures  contribute  to  keep  us  on  the  alert. 
We  drive  along  the  Neva,  whose  splendid  avenues 


THE    LAND    OF    THE    CZAR.  243 

and  quays  are  one.  They  are  lined  by  the  same  yel- 
low buildings,  where  die  families  of  the  royal  house 
reside.  Then  we  cross  the  Neva  on  a  pontoon  bridge, 
called  the  Trontsen,  from  which  a  splendid  view  is 
had  of  the  spreading  waters  of  the  river — bounded  at 
one  end  by  the  elegant  edifice  of  the  Commercial 
Exchange.  In  winter  the  river  is  used  for  races  upon 
the  ice.  Then  we  turn  into  Alexandria  Park,  and 
admire  the  villas  of  the  merchant  princes  upon  the 
lagoons  into  which  the  Neva  is  divided.  From  the 
rounding  point,  we  perceive  the  Finland  Gulf,  Cron- 
stadt,  and  Peterhoff,  and  all  the  points  which  we 
passed  on  our  route  hither.  Then  we  turn  into  the 
Zoological  Gardens,  where  white  bears  and  young 
cubs,  wolves  and  walruses,  along  with  thousands  of 
pleasure-seekers,  together  enjoy  the  brilliant  mimic 
scenes  till  midnight.  There  we  found  (for  fifteen 
cents  only)  a  splendid  theatre,  out-doors,  and  famous 
dogs  and  monkeys  performing,  followed  by  a  ballet 
in  pantomime,  in  which  Greeks  and  Turks  play  parts, 
and  in  which  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  the  former 
are  lifted  through  a  gorgeous  display  of  many-col- 
ored lights  into  clouds  of  glory,  amidst  the  cheers  of 
the  populace,  which  never  forgets  that  Turkey  is  its 
natural  foe,  and  that  Constantinople  is  its  natural  if 
not  national  capital. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE  CITY  OF  PALACES — A  VISIT  TO  THE  CHURCHES — 
THE  SPOT  WHERE  THE  CZAR  WAS  KILLED  —  THE 
GREAT  MONOLITH  AND  OTHER  MONUMENTS — SONGS 
OF  THE  SOLDIERS  —  EXCURSIONS  —  LABORING  MEN 
AND    WAGES. 

"  Since  pleasures  end  in  pain,  and  youth  in  age, 
And  love  in  loss,  and  life  i7i  hateful  death. 
And  death  in  unknown  lives,  which  will  but  yoke 
Men  to  their  wheel  again,  to  whirl  the  round 
Of  false  delights  and  woes  that  are  not  false." 

"The  Light  of  Asia " — Edwin  Arnold. 

T  is  impossible  to  describe  the  phases  of  Russian 
life  in  a  few  chapters,  or  to  make  a  review  of 
le  scenes  and  places  which  we  have  had  time  to 
observe.  I  might  have  made  a  more  picturesque 
sketch  of  the  military  or  dynastic  church,  wherein  lies 
buried  Russia,  or  her  Czars.  It  would  be  a  pleasure 
to  recount  more  in  detail  the  visit  to  the  hut  of  Peter 
the  Great,  where  he  lived  while  planning  this  city. 
The  boat  and  chair,  which  he  made,  attract  our  eyes, 
while  the  sacred  picture  under  glass  in  the  corner,  set 
in  precious  stones  and  illuminated  with  candles,  is 
considered  so  rare  and  talismanic  that  it  attracts 
crowds,  who  kiss  the  glass  covering.  It  is  a  famous 
picture  of  the  Saviour,  and  lovely  in  its  touching  sad- 
ness. It  has  a  witchery,  for,  being  borne  in  front  of 
the  army,  it  incites  to  victory. 

We  drive  to  the  place  where  the  late  Emperor 


THE    CITY    OF   PALACES.  245 

was  killed.  There  is  a  beautiful  shrine  under  an  Ori- 
ental kiosk-like  temple  over  the  exact  spot,  in  front 
of  which  are  candles  burning,  and  devotees  bowing 
and  crossing.  There  seemed  to  be  an  unusually  deep 
solemnity  here;  and  even  the  guards  and  ministrants 
had  a  more  serious  air  and  anxious  expression.  We 
went  to  various  other  churches,  all  called  "  parish 
churches,"  but  splendid  in  dome  of  green,  gold,  or 
blue,  and  rich  in  decorations,  golden  decorations  pre- 
dominating, for  even  the  silver  is  gilded  over.  No 
images  are  allowed  in  the  Greek  churches,  only  pic- 
tures. So  it  is  said,  but  it  is  hard  for  us  to  distinguish 
between  them.  Faces  of  the  Saviour  and  Madonna 
appear  in  beautiful  outline  and  color,  surrounded  by 
golden  aureolas  and  by  enamelled  and  gemmed  frames 
of  rare  handiwork.  Our  last  visit  on  Sunday  to 
church,  was  to  that  of"  Our  Lady  of  Kazan."  Kazan 
is  a  town  on  the  Volga,  and  the  reputation  of  its 
saint  is  such  as  to  enrich  her  shrine  beyond  all  others. 
The  buildinof — like  most  of  the  other  churches — has 
pendent  from  its  sides  and  in  its  chapels,  flags  of  all 
nations,  taken  by  Russia  in  battle.  Considering  what 
wars  she  has  had,  at  home  and  abroad,  you  can  well 
imagine  what  an  immense  multitude  of  old,  torn, 
moth-eaten,  yet  ever-glorious  ensigns,  from  Central 
Asia  to  Poland,  are  hung  upon  her  sacred  walls.  The 
gates,  balustrade,  and  altar  of  Kazan  Church  are  of 
solid  silver.  Four  fluted  jasper  columns  adorn  the 
altar.  At  its  doors — as  at  all  the  churches — are  poor 
people,  very  ragged,  and  worn  with  pilgrimages  from 
afar,  who  bow  to  you  obsequiously,  and  present  their 
black  portfolios,  with  a  Greek  cross  upon  them,  as 
credentials  for  their  mission  to  beg  for  the  distant 
parts  of  the  empire,  and  their  spiritual  needs  and 
monasteries. 


246  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Upon  our  drive  we  notice  some  fine  triumphal 
arches,  copied  after  the  classic  models  and  those  of  other 
countries,  and  other  monuments,  but  none  equals  the 
superb  Alexander  Column,  erected  in  1832.  It  is  a 
solid  shaft  of  red  granite,  the  greatest  monolith  of  the 
world.  It  is  based  on  an  enormous  block  of  red 
granite.  There  is  an  angel  on  the  summit.  The 
monument  is  one  hundred  and  fifty-four  feet  high, 
and  has  a  noble  and  inspiring  grace  and  grandeur. 
Other  statues  to  Peter  and  Catharine,  besides  statues 
to  soldiers  and  poets,  make  every  square  of  this  grand 
city  monumental.  There  is  also  an  equestrian  statue 
of  Nicholas.  The  horse  is  like  that  of  General  Jack- 
son's, in  Lafayette  Square,  Washington,  and  stands 
upon  his  hind  legs  only.  It  is  so  much  more  ele- 
gantly and  gracefully  posed  that  I  could  not  but 
compare  it  to  the  disadvantage  of  our  own  favorite 
charger. 

On  no  day  have  we  failed  to  find  something  about 
— Peter  the  Great!  In  "  the  summer  gardens"  there 
is  an  old  palace,  where  are  sacred  relics  of  his 
handiwork,  such  as  chairs,  cabinets,  and  Chinese  de- 
signs; the  kitchen  and  bath-room  have  tiles  of  the  old 
Dutch  style,  which  he  greatly  affected.  The  chim- 
ney is  as  huge  as  the  room.  Within,  is  a  prison, 
where  he  is  said  to  have  kept  his  personal  enemies, 
without  benefit  of  habeas  corpus  or  clergy.  It  looks 
gloomy,  and  the  grating  seems  to  be  peculiarly 
adapted  to  a  jail;  but  it  is  not  very  likely  that  Peter 
would  have  enjoyed  such  society,  in  his  own  favorite 
home. 

It  is  a  custom  in  the  "  summer  gardens,"  where 
the  military  seem  to  have  preference,  to  have  certain 
days  consecrated  to  song.  At  least,  we  gain  that  im- 
pression;   for,    while  sauntering   through    its    shades 


THE    CITY    OF   PALACES.  247 

towards  evening,  we  hear  some  strange,  unearthly 
music.  We  gather  near.  In  front  of  a  statue  in 
bronze,  erected  to  the  fabulist  and  poet  of  Russia, 
Kryloff,  who  died  in  1844,  were  a  dozen  Cossacks,  in 
full  chorus  and  uniform,  and  chanting  a  wild  lyric.  A 
triangle  and  tambourine  were  the  only  accompanying 
instruments.  The  leader  stands  in  the  centre,  and 
directs  the  music,  besides  singing  falsetto  with  a  funny 
"  burr-ring,"  as  if  he  were  halting  his  horses.  With 
much  gusto  he  finishes  the  piece  and  others,  and, 
lookinor  down  at  a  white  handkerchief  on  the  grround, 
seems  to  feel  its  vacuity  of  cash.  We  place  some 
kopecks  on  it.  These  minstrels  give,  at  our  re- 
quest, their  jolliest  songs.  Some  of  their  rare  tunes 
from  old  Sclav  ditties  sound  quite  like  Offenbach. 
I  remarked  as  much  to  the  Qruide,  who  scouted  the 
idea,  and  said  that  Offenbach  had  filched  them.  This 
custom  of  singing  in  gardens  is  not  peculiar  to  Rus- 
sia, nor  to  this  garden.  We  found  the  same  cus- 
tom in  Stockholm,  where  the  students  orathered  be- 
fore  the  bust  of  Bellman,  the  lyric  improvisator  of 
Sweden,  on  his  natal  day. 

The  reliefs  below  this  statue  of  Kryloff  represent 
^sop's  fables  and  their  Russian  analogues;  for  there 
were  the  animals  making  their  moralities,  from  the 
lion  to  the  mouse  and  from  the  stag  to  the  elephant. 
It  was  an  appropriate  and  peculiar  tribute  to  the  man, 
librarian,  and  poet,  as  well  as  to  that  inalienable  and 
inborn  love  of  fable  and  parable  which  belongs  to  all 
ages  and  lands,  and  has  its  select  home  in  the  Orient. 

If  you  would  vary  this  round  of  visits  by  an  ex- 
cursion into  the  country,  I  should  recommend  two: 
one  to  Sarskse-sello,  and  the  other  to  Peterhoff.  We 
have  made  both.  At  the  first  are  the  palaces  of  the 
Czar  and  the  Grand  Duke  Constantine.    We  go  there 


248  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

by  rail.  The  drives  in  the  parks  are  beautiful.  Therein 
is  a  lovely  palace  where  lived  the  Princess  Dagmar 
before  she  became  empress.  The  armory  here  forms 
a  museum  of  wonderful  interest,  for  it  has  gifts  of  un- 
told value  from  Spain  to  Persia,  and  beyond.  Every 
kind  of  gun,  sword,  and  dagger  is  here;  and  those 
from  the  conquered  sheiks  and  khans  of  Asia  shine 
resplendent  in  jewels  by  the  mass.  The  saddle- 
cloths from  the  Orient,  and  especially  the  presents 
from  the  Shah  of  Persia,  are  the  richest  known  to  any 
collection  of  the  world.  Among  the  manifold  things 
here  to  be  seen  are  the  lock  and  key  found  near  the 
site  of  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem;  the  jewelry  of  the 
harem  of  the  Khan  of  Khiva — a  wonderful  collection 
for  female  adornment;  Chevalier  Bayard's  cuirass;  a 
spear  which  opens  after  it  enters  the  body;  an  alarm- 
clock  which  shoots  off  a  gun  to  awaken  the  sleeper; 
the  flags  taken  in  the  Hungarian  insurrection  of  1849; 
the  baton  of  Schmayl,  the  Circassian  chief,  who  fought 
Russia  so  many  years;  the  emeralds,  by  the  quantity, 
which  the  Shah  of  Persia  sent  to  the  Czar;  the  "horse 
furniture  "  of  the  Indian  sheiks,  and  a  circular  knife 
which  they  used  to  hurl,  which  cut  your  head  off  be- 
fore you-  could  say  your  little  prayer;  and,  as  a  proper 
apex  to  this  collection  of  curious  gifts  and  gems — 
worth  alone  sixty  millions  of  rubles — the  sword  of 
Mazeppa,  the  brave  hetman  of  the  Poles,  who  will 
never  cease  to  ride  through  histrionic  and  historic 
dangers  on  that  fierce,  untamed  charger  of  the  desert! 
From  the  top  of  this  armory  we  have  a  splendid  view 
of  the  distant  city  and  the  surrounding  country.  One 
of  the  singular  caprices  of  royalty  in  these  palace 
grounds  is  the  Chinese  village.  The  houses  are  large 
and  commodious  for  servants  of  the  palace,  but  they  are 
extremely  unique,  dropped  down  from  Celestial  models 


THE    CITY   OF   PALACES.  249 

into  this  enchanted  wood  of  birch  and  lindc:n.  There 
are  ornamental  waters,  too,  where  every  boat  known 
to  the  invention  of  man  is  seen.  There  is  the  cata- 
maran which  we  have  seen  on  the  Hudson  river,  and 
the  Norse  boat,  as  old  as  the  barge  of  Cleopatra  in 
its  style,  which  appears  with  its  graceful  bow  in  every 
fjord  of  Norway;  the  Indian  canoe,  or  dug-out,  is 
here,  besides  gondolas  of  Venice,  caiques  from  Con- 
stantinople, skin  boats  from  the  Esquimaux,  and  every 
other  class  of  boat,  including  even  a  rude  specimen 
from  Otaheite.  Here,  too,  are  the  royal  sleighs  and 
barges,  in  the  boat-house  once  used  by  Catharine  II. 
The  keepers  of  these  boats  look  upon  us  with  much 
surprise,  especially  when  they  are  told  that  we  are 
Americans.  I  think  sometimes  this  fact  helps  us  to 
see  much  which  we  otherwise  would  not  see  and 
enjoy,  for  when  we  apply  to  be  admitted  to  the 
palace  of  Constantine  here,  the  gruff  response  at  first 
is,  "  Who  are  they  ?  "  "Americans  !  "  and  forthwith, 
with  much  graciousness,  we  are  admitted.  The  pal- 
ace is  evidently  in  use  by  the  family,  as  many  little 
domestic  matters  betoken.  There  is  an  abundance 
of  urns,  flowers,  pictures,  and  bric-a-brac.  The  rooms 
are  frescoed  in  dainty  sky-blue  backgrounds,  and  the 
ceilings  and  walls  are  draped  in  medallions  and  silks. 
It  is  useless  to  try  to  picture  these  multitudinous  em- 
blems and  articles  of  royalty.  These  proofs  of  wealth, 
however,  are  shapes  of  beauty,  and,  by  whomsoever 
owned  or  however  purchased,  are  revelations  of  taste, 
talent,  and  genius.  But  as  well  try  to  make  a  meal 
out  of  whipped  syllabub  as  substance  out  of  so  much 
mere  iterative  description  of  these  objects  of  luxury. 
Every  palace  in  Europe  has  more  or  less  of  this  dis- 
play of  art  and  its  treasures;  but  no  palaces  are  so 
opulent  as  those  of  this  city  and  its  environs,  in  jewels, 


250  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

and  so  exquisite  in  the  refinement  of  adornments, 
made  as  well  by  the  pencil  and  chisel  as  by  machinery, 
out  of  the  minerals  of  the  Ural  Mountains,  for  which 
there  are  special  royal  factories. 

If  you  would  find,  in  full  perfection,  the  richest  in 
all  respects  of  all  the  palaces  in  the  world,  I  suppose 
the  Winter  Palace  would  be  that  superlative  edifice. 
Since  the  attempt  to  blow  it  up  as  the  royal  people 
were  about  to  dine,  it  has  been  closed.  I  made  an 
effort  through  Colonel  Hoffman,  our  Charge  d'Affaires, 
to  obtain  an  entrance  for  the  Americans  now  stopping 
here,  but  vainly.  Recent  events  forbade.  The  Czar 
himself  will  not  sfo  into  it  aeain.  It  is  shut  for  two 
years.  This  was  a  disappointment,  but  it  was  partly 
compensated  for  by  admission  to  the  "  Hermitage," 
which  is  a  part  or  a  neighbor  to  the  Winter  Palace. 
But  the  Hermitage  seems  to  be  enough  for  all  our 
time.  All  the  "masters,"  old  and  young,  native  and 
foreign,  are  in  profusion  here,  as  well  as  specimens  of 
the  exhausdess  mineral  glories  of  Russia  and  Siberia 
in  every  form  of  carved  beauty  and  tasteful  grace. 
Museums  of  ancient  statuary,  coin,  jewels,  and  intag- 
lios, illustrating  every  age  and  phase  of  history,  and, 
as  a  climax  of  interest,  the  relics  of  the  city  of  Kertch 
and  other  places,  in  the  Greek  colonies  of  two  thousand 
years  ago — now  in  Southern  Russia — are  here.  This 
exhibition  supplements  General  Cesnola's  Cyprian  an- 
tiquities, and  would  add  fresh  interest  to  our  home 
museum.  Upon  these  Greek  relics  are  found  such 
dresses,  worn  by  the  ancient  Scythians,  as  our  drosky- 
drivers  now  wear,  and  bas-reliefs  on  these  old  vases, 
show  horses,  managed  exactly  as  my  former  Ohio 
constituent,  Rarey,  used,  to  quell  the  worst  "Cruisers" 
of  the  equestrian  world. 

But,  as  a  small  American  boy  remarked  at  the  end 


THE    CITY   OF   PALACES.  251 

of  our  six-hours'  promenade  throug-h  these  corridors, 
"  We  feel  two  thousand  years  old  ourselves,  we  have 
travelled  so  much  and  so  far !  " 

Do  you  ask,  is  Peter  the  Great  to  be  found  at  the 
Hermitag-e  ?  Surely,  he  is  everywhere.  Here  are 
his  lathes,  tools,  and  knives,  and  plaques,  or  disks  of 
copper  and  ivory,  cut  by  his  own  hand.  Here,  too, 
is  his  measuring-staff,  which  was  a  foot  taller  than  any 
one  in  our  party,  and  that  of  his  valet,  a  foot  taller 
than  Peter!  How  could  he  be  such  a  warrior,  states- 
man, mechanic,  and  architect — ruling  such  an  immense 
and  incongruous  people  so  well,  and  make  so  many 
knick-knacks  with  his  own  hand  and  out  of  his  own 
mechanical  contrivance  ?  This  conundrum  puzzles  the 
brain.  We  are  curious  to  know  the  secret  of  Peter's 
power  and  of  the  glamour  of  grandeur  around  this 
giant  of  Muscovite  history  and  modern  civilization. 

In  all  this  wanderino-  for  hours  throuQfh  these 
chambers  of  rare  imagery,  we  have  only  one  glimpse 
of  the  twin  palace,  the  Winter  Garden,  and  that  is 
through  the  connecting  corridor,  which  is  a  conserv- 
atory of  palms  and  other  plants. 

The  staircase  of  this  palace  of  the  Hermitage  has 
no  equal  in  its  size  and  proportion.  Outside  there  are 
immense  black  colossal  porphyry  figures  bearing  up 
the  portico,  each  an  Atlas  in  itself.  They  are  em- 
blems of  the  eighty  millions  of  subjects,  which  from 
every  rank  uphold  this  extended  empire.  With  its 
sixty  millions  of  farmers,  now  free;  its  seven  millions 
of  villagers,  its  one  million  of  gentry,  nobles,  and  offi- 
cers, and  its  four  millions  of  military  men  and  their 
families,  it  would  seem  that  the  vast  edifice  of  the 
Russian  power  would  be  stable,  supported  by  such 
Adantean  shoulders.  Is  it  really  so  ?  Time  will  tell. 
After  all,  does  not  this  structure  rest  on  labor,  to  be 


252  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

directed  by  educated  brain  ?  Is  there  much  to  en- 
courage the  lover  of  his  kind  here  in  this  aspect  ?  For 
the  welfare  of  all,  it  is  to  be  wished  that  there  was 
more  comfort  and  elevation  amono^  these  vast  masses 
of  men,  for,  from  my  inquiries,  I  conclude  that  there 
is  not  much  encouragement  to  labor  here.  Laboring 
men  work  from  six  in  the  morning  to  eight  at  night, 
twelve  hours,  deducting  the  dinner  hours.  Their 
wage  is  meagre.  They  only  earn  twenty  rubles  a 
month,  which,  at  the  present  price  of  the  paper 
money,  is  in  our  money  say  ten  dollars  a  month, 
and  find  themselves.  The  women  who  work  in  the 
cotton  and  other  factories  of  this  and  other  cities  and 
towns  gret  one-half  of  this  sum  as  their  waoi^es.  A  con- 
tractor  of  dredging  in  the  Gulf  tells  me  that  he  hires 
his  best  men  for  twenty-three  rubles  a  month,  and 
most  of  them  come  from  five  hundred  miles  interior. 
They  go  home  for  the  long  winter  and  return  for  the 
short  summer. 

From  these  chance  facts  you  may  glean  the  con- 
dition of  the  ex-serfs,  who  are  the  foundation  of  this 
social  pyramid.  But  they  do  not  seem  to  be  of  the  dis- 
contented or  dangerous  classes.  They  may  be  roughly 
and  plainly  clad — their  garments  may  be  made  of 
sheepskin — and  when  off  duty  they  may  and  do  stand 
as  much  of  the  wildest  devil  of  bad  drink  as  any  set 
of  men  on  the  star;  but  still  they  are  the  broad  basis 
of  this  Russian  social  order.  While  they  are  loyal  to 
their  "  father,  the  Czar,"  and  his  family,  this  land  will 
know  no  hasty,  violent  or  extensive  revolution.  In 
this  struggle  there  are  many  hard  problems  to  solve. 
Some  of  them  are  ao^rarian,  orrowino^  out  of  the  eman- 
cipation  of  the  serfs  and  the  division  of  the  land. 
These  may  be  in  time  arranged  satisfactorily  by 
the   local  communes  or  legislatures.     Escaping  this 


THE    CITY    OF   PALACES.  253 

trouble,  there  is  the  vast  debt  and  tax  and  other 
financial  and  currency  questions.  But  this,  too,  by 
the  [genius  of  good  statesmanship,  may  be  a  cloud 
which  will  pass  away.  Besides,  the  Czar  has  an  en- 
emy in  his  own  bureaucracy,  more  formidable  than 
in  the  peasantry  or  the  Nihilists.  He  provoked  their 
hate,  by  some  attempts  to  reform  their  abuses  of 
trust  and  authority.  A  hundred  thousand  unneces- 
sary officials  cannot  be  readily  disposed  of,  even  by 
an  autocrat.  He  cannot  overcome  them,  except  he 
falls  back  upon  the  masses.  He  is  paralyzed;  and  will 
continue  so,  unless  he  grants  to  the  people  certain 
privileges.  They  would  like  to  combine  for  their 
relief  from  social  and  local  grievances;  such  as 
epizootics,  grasshoppers,  epidemics,  forest  devasta- 
tions, speculators,  land-grabbers,  and  corrupt  judges. 
Other  menaces  the  Czar  has,  owing  to  diversity  of 
races  in  the  realm.  Poland  has  not  stifled  her  re- 
venges; White  Russia  is  not  reconciled  with  the 
Muscovite.  The  Cossack  of  the  Dnieper  has  an  alien 
history.  The  Baltic  provinces  are  Teutonic.  The 
Ural  Cossacks  love  liberty  more  than  Czarism.  Five 
million  Caucasians  are  still  sullen  under  taxation. 
Asiatic  conquests  are  held  by  force.  Siberia  is  an 
exile,  with  a  load  of  memory.  Can  these  jarring  ele- 
ments survive  and  live  in  a  Sclavonic  unity;  and 
with  the  impending  threat  of  Germanic  hostility 
ready  to  unite  with  the  Latin  races  against  a  bar- 
baric foe  ?  Even  the  Republican  Castellar  of  Spain 
rallies  for  the  union  of  Europe  against  Russia,  fear- 
ful of  the  Napoleonic  problem:  "  If  not  republican, 
then  Cossack.''"  Th.Q pourparlers  of  Czar  and  Em- 
peror at  Dantzic,  may  unite  the  eagles  for  a  time; 
but  the  nineteenth  century  is  not  the  tame  prey  of 
the  eighteenth. 


254  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Ah!  if  only  Russia  could  have  a  rest  from  war, 
and  if  her  vast  army  could  be  turned  into  labor  upon 
her  vast  and  fruitful  plains!  Russia  accomplished  the 
emancipation  of  her  serfs.  It  was  the  work  of  a  nation, 
and  not  merely  of  a  man,  or  a  bureaucracy.  Arguing 
from  this  work  so  well  done,  Wallace,  the  best  ob- 
server of  Russian  affairs  from  a  foreign  standpoint, 
"  confidently  assumes  that  Russia  will,  in  due  time, 
successfully  overcome  the  agrarian  difficulties  that  still 
lie  before  her."     It  is  to  be  hoped. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

LOWER     LIFE     IN     RUSSIA  —  DEATH    AND     LIFE  —  BIRTH 
AND    BURIAL. 

*The  tender  leaves  of  Hope." — Shakespeare. 

IT  is  the  middle  of  August.  The  city  of  the  Czar  is 
not  joyous.  It  is  not  the  gay  season,  which  is 
winter.  The  recent  assassination  does  not  make  the 
summer  merry.  We  are  attracted  to  the  sound  of 
the  great  bells  of  St.  Isaac's,  opposite  our  hotel. 
They  sound  a  lament.  I  look  out,  only  to  see  a 
golden  tapestry  over  a  hearse,  and,  as  with  us  at 
funerals,  numerous  carriages  following.  But  this  is 
not  a  funeral  of  the  common  people.  Of  the  cere- 
monies which  attend  their  sepulchre  we  had  a  most 
interesting  though  painful  observation  on  Sunday. 
This  is  worth  a  description. 

We  knew  that  we  were  approaching  the  cemetery 
by  the  thousands  of  wreaths  of  all  colors,  even  red, 
offered  for  sale  alongf  the  streets  leading  to  it.  It  re- 
minded  us  of  Pere  la  Chaise.  We  are  ushered  with- 
in the  gates,  with  a  throng  of  people,  many  of  them 
bent  on  pleasure  and  not  on  grief.  These  places  for 
the  dead  are  not  cared  for  with  that  sweet  and  gentle 
caress  which  the  Scandinavians  give  to  these  acres 
of  God.  At  the  "  fetes  of  the  dead  "  here,  the  orgies 
of  eatinor  and  drinkino-  over  the  sfraves  are  not  to  be 
counted  among  the  solemnities  of  death,  but  rather 


256  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  festivities  of  life !  We  pass  within  a  chapel.  It 
is  accoutred  in  gilt,  as  are  all  shrines  and  domes  here. 
The  long  vestments  and  belts  of  the  priests  are  of 
gold  lace,  and  many  of  the  covers  of  the  cofhns  are 
thus  ornamented.  As  we  enter,  the  service  of  the 
Greek  Church  is  proceeding.  A  band  of  choristers 
are  responding  to  the  priest,  while  all  about  are  the 
bereaved,  making  genuflexions  and  crosses.  Nearly 
every  one  has  a  lighted  taper.  Indeed,  everywhere 
at  the  Russian  shrines  and  in  the  churches  candles 
are  lighted.  It  is  a  symbol  of  the  continued  exist- 
ence of  life.  It  is  beautiful  at  interments.  Every 
baptism,  burial,  and  betrothal  is  pledged  to  the  Holy 
Spirit— "  heavenly  flame!"  Whenever  a  Russian 
enters  a  church  he  buys  a  taper,  approaches  a  shrine, 
and  lights  it  at  the  sacred  lamp,  bending  and  cross- 
ing meanwhile.  It  is  the  most  common  of  all  the 
ceremonies  here,  and  it  first  attracts  us  in  this 
Church  of  Smolenski  a  Wassali,  within  the  precincts 
of  the  city  cemetery. 

We  are  led,  without  impediment,  within  the  altar, 
but  are  requested  not  to  turn  our  backs  upon  it. 
The  first  service  is  crivincf  the  communion  wine  to  a 
dozen  infants,  who,  with  various  expressions,  partake 
of  the  liquid  from  a  spoon,  and  after  much  bless- 
ing. They  are  thus  made  members  of  the  Church. 
Two  priests  assist  in  this;  one  is  an  old  and  most 
amiable  man,  the  other  a  giant  in  size,  and  with  a 
voice  like  Stentor,  and  both,  like  the  priests  of  the 
Greek  Church,  are  hirsute  on  cheek  and  head.  But 
this  infant  communion  is  not  what  we  "  came  out  for 
to  see."  The  church  grows  warm  and  inodorous, 
and  we  are  tempted  to  the  fresh  air;  but  at  length 
the  burial  ceremony  begins.  One  man,  not  in  priestly 
arra)-,  chaunts  from  a  book,  and  the  choir  responds. 


LOWER    LIFE    IN   RUSSIA.  257 

The  priest  also  responds,  and  the  pious  moveni(mts 
of  the  people  continue,  until  at  last  a  flutter  of  aj^ony 
breaks  forth,  the  candles  are  put  out,  and  the  cov- 
ers removed  from  the  lids,  and  the  lids  from  the 
coffins.  The  chaunts  go  on,  the  censers  swini^-,  and 
the  wail  of  sorrow  over  the  dead  begins.  Poor,  sad 
— sad — sad  people.  Mothers  mourning  afresh  at  the 
last  look  at  their  babes;  children  grouped  around  the 
dead  mother,  almost  hidden  beneath  the  flowers 
which  festoon  the  inside  and  outside  of  the  coffin;  old 
and  young  taking  their  adieux,  lifting  up  the  dead  face, 
all  pale  and  senseless,  to  salute  it  tenderly  for  the 
last — last  time !  It  was  a  scene  to  melt  a  heart  of 
granite.  There  were  no  unkissed  faces  there  within 
these  shrouds. 

After  passing  about  some  of  the  consecrated  cakes, 
to  be  eaten  when  spiritually  minded,  and  after  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  bowls  of  rice  and  raisins,  to  aid  the 
dead  in  their  journey  home,  and  after  various  cere- 
monies behind  the  altars,  with  their  pictures  of  Sa- 
viour, saints,  and  Madonna,  incrusted  in  jewels,  sil- 
ver, gold,  and  enamel  of  all  colors — the  lids  are 
replaced,  the  candles  relighted,  the  chaunt  begins 
anew.  Then  the  coffins  are  borne  out  into  the 
grounds  and  air,  where,  followed  by  priests  and 
people,  with  a  loud  chorus  of  lamentation,  the  bodies 
are  committed  to  the  consecrated  dust.  The  souls 
of  the  bereaved  are  left  all  darkened,  and  the 
"mourners  go  about  the  streets." 

These  are  some  of  the  experiences  and  scenes  of 
Russian  life  which  the  guide-books  do  not,  cannot 
portray;  yet  do  they  not  show  the  inner  life  of  the 
people?  Do  they  not  take  us  within  the  portals 
of  the  grave  itself — the  very  adytum — and  show 
what  the  consolations  are  which  this  religion  gives  in 


258  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

the  worst  emergencies  of  women  and  men,  and  which 
to  the  stranger  of  another  faith  and  cHme  may  seem 
merely  an  idle  ceremony  ? 

Let  us  io-nore  the  dead,  and  select  somethine 
more  fitting  our  age  of  activity,  life,  and  evolution. 

Our  guide  asks:  "  How  we  would  like  to  see 
2.000  human  beings  under  one  roof,  and  being 
housed,  fed,  and  saved  by  a  maternal  government?" 

Surely,  we  are  content,  and  step  forth  from  our 
carriage.  We  enter  a  vast  building  under  a  stone 
bas-relief  oi  a  motherly  swan  which  has  its  dozen  of 
little  ones  looking  up  to  and  feeding  from  its  downy 
breast;  or,  if  not  that,  perhaps  it  is  the  escutcheon 
of  Louisiana,  a  pelican,  feeding  its  young  out  of  the 
blood  of  its  own  body. 

This  is  the  Vospitatelny  Dom.  It  is  as  old  as 
1778,  and  is  a  branch  of  the  Foundling  Asylum  at 
Moscow.  It  is  near  a  canal,  and  is  connected  with  a 
lying-in  hospital  and  a  school  of  midwifery,  in  which 
any  one  about  to  be  a  mother  can  find  a  refuge,  with- 
out cost,  and  with  absolute  seclusion,  privacy  and  care. 
It  is  one  of  the  provisions  of  the  Government  for 
birth,  and  is  in  strange  contrast  with  that  which  the 
church  makes  for  death,  as  we  have  just  seen  it,  in 
the  cemetery.  Whatever  it  be,  we  are  ushered  into 
the  presence  of  the  most  motherly  of  matrons,  who, 
at  a  table,  seems  to  be  doing  a  thriving  business  in 
infants  of  tender  age.  She  is  a  most  muscular  and 
maenificent  madame.  She  receives  us  with  a  cour- 
tesy.  She  is  filling  up  red  and  blue  blanks.  What 
for?  For  foundlings!  There  are  eight  hundred  and 
four  in  the  building  now,  some  twenty-eight  being 
received  every  day,  and  as  many  sent  out  to  be 
farmed  in  the  country.  The  building  holds  two  thou- 
sand   people,   including  wet   nurses,    babies,    bread- 


LOWER    LIFE    IM   RUSSIA.  259 

makers,  and  attendants.  Besides,  it  is  an  as)luni 
where  calves  are  kept,  from  between  whose  innocent 
teats  the  vaccine  matter  is  extracted;  and  whoever 
will,  can  come  and  partake  of  the  vaccination  freely ! 
We  saw  the  calves  in  their  stalls,  and  how  they  were 
tied  for  the  forced  extraction  of  the  sanitary  matter. 

But  this  was  but  an  incident  of  the  institution. 
While  there  is  an  opportunity  for  poor  wedded 
parents  to  place  in  separate  apartments  their  chil- 
dren, and  while  a  few  avail  themselves  of  the  privi- 
lege, the  great  body  of  the  little  bodies  are  born  out  of 
wedlock.  A  gentleman  covered  with  medals  gallants 
us  around  the  building.  He  is  met  at  different  wards 
by  females  who  once  were  foundlings,  but,  being 
acute  and  trained,  are  nurses  and  doctoresses,  making 
prescriptions  and  supervising  the  army  of  nurses. 
These  nurses  wear  red,  green,  and  blue  caps,  accord- 
ing to  their  peculiar  work  and  ward. 

But  let  us  begin  at  the  beginning.  As  twenty- 
eight  of  these  illegitimates  come  in  every  day,  we  are 
likely  to  see  one  enter  before  we  go  upstairs.  Sure 
enough !  An  old  lady  appears  on  the  threshold  with 
something  in  a  quilt.  It  is  in  shape,  or  mis-shape, 
like  a  pappoose  bundled  on  a  board;  but  there  is  a 
veritable  infant  in  it.  Our  euide  calls  us — we  beincr 
four,  my  wife  and  myself,  and  a  physician  and  his 
wife — to  the  front  to  see  the  babe  unswathed. 

The  first  question  asked  of  the  old  lady  is:  "Is 
it  baptized  ?  " 

"  Oh !  yes,"  says  the  old  lady,  "  it  is  a  Christian." 

So  it  has  a  better  show,  for  it  has  not  to  be  im- 
mersed into  the  Greek  Church,  and  it  has,  being  a 
Christian,  three  years  in  which  to  be  otherwise  re- 
deemed !     Our  guide  facetiously  asks  of  the  old  lady: 

"  Are  you  its  mother  ?  " 


26o  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Witli  a  jolly  laugh  she  replies:  "  Oh !  no,  only  the 
midwife.  I  am  seventy  years !  My  name  is  not 
Sarah ! " 

"  How  old  is  it?  "  is  the  next  query. 

"  Three  days." 

Well,  well!  It  was  born  on  the  i6th  of  July,  and 
in  the  old  style !  Let  it  not  be  misunderstood  that 
there  is  more  than  one  style  of  being  born,  whether 
under  Czars  or  Presidents,  and  that  is  the  "  old  style." 
But  it  should  be  remembered  that  the  calendar  we 
use  for  the  days  of  the  month  is  that  of  Pope  Gregory 
of  the  Latin  Church,  and  not  that  of  Russia.  It  is  an 
historic  fact  that  when  the  "  old  style,"  or  calendar  of 
the  Greek  Church,  was  abolished  some  centuries  ago, 
the  intelligent  British  bacon-fed  people  revolted,  be- 
cause twelve  days  were  subtracted  from  their  precious 
lives  by  the  Catholic  calendar.  The  Russian  has 
had,  according  to  the  logic  of  the  Jack  Cades  of  Old 
England,  twelve  days  longer  to  live  than  those  of 
other  nations.  This  child,  though  born,  according  to 
law,  on  the  i6th  of  July,  according  to  our  date  was 
twelve  days  older,  and  therefore  illegitimate !  This 
logic  is  from  the  "  Pirates  of  Penzance."  It  has — as 
an  international  babe — lived  fifteen  days  in  three ! 
But  what  is  its  sex  ?  That  is  ascertained,  and  the 
blue  ticket  is  tacked  upon  the  waif  It  is  a  boy.  We 
proceed  upstairs,  where  the  child  turns  up  also,  but 
with  a  different  number  from  that  which  is  sent  to  the 
mother,  for  she  must  not  be  allowed  to  know  the  real 
number,  else  she  may  have  hopes  of  recognizing  her 
child,  get  into  the  asylum  as  nurse  or  help,  and  thus 
foil  the  charitable  intent.  Two  young  lady  attendants 
proceed  to  undo  the  baby-boy  once  more.  He  is 
nude  before  us,  and  gives  a  sneeze  in  recognition  of 
his  inheritance  of  future  ills.    Then  there  is  a  bath  of 


LOWER    LIFE    IN  RUSSIA.  261 

warm  water,  into  which  he  is  placed.  After  a  Httle 
whimper  and  scream  he  is  thoroiig-hly  washed,  enjoy- 
ing it  to  the  innermost  core  of  his  Httle  sensibilities. 
Then  he  is  delivered  over  to  a  wet  nurse,  who  is 
summoned  from  a  room  where  nurses  are  in  wait- 
ing. She  begins  at  once  the  lacteal  diet,  and  keeps 
it  up  till  such  time  as  the  child  is  removed  to  the 
country. 

We  then  enter  the  room  where  there  are  twenty- 
four  babies  already  admitted  for  the  day,  and  it  was 
but  four  o'clock !  There  must  be  more  nurses  on 
hand  for  the  new-comers  than  there  are  babies;  though 
some  of  the  nurses  in  the  other  rooms  had  two  babies 
in  charge.  These  nurses  are  healthy  women,  but  not 
any  of  them  handsome.  They  wear  a  red  bodice  over 
a  white  habit  shirt,  conveniently  arranged  for  the  pur- 
poses of  nature's  fountain. 

We  visit  a  half-dozen  rooms  in  each  division, 
where,  in  various  stages  of  care,  these  nurses  are 
at  their  posts  of  duty.  There  is  not  much  crying 
among  the  children,  but  there  is  considerable  aston- 
ishment here  and  there  among  the  nurses  at  our  un- 
expected presence.  The  attendants  who  are  super- 
vising each  room  wear  blue  checks,  with  plain  blue 
bands  on  the  sleeves,  and  seem  very  intelligent. 
As  my  male  companion  is  a  physician,  he  is  per- 
mitted to  see  what  otherwise  might  not  have  been 
shown  to  us.  So  we  are  next  gallanted  to  a  room 
where  are  several  bright,  shining  copper  boilers,  filled 
with  warm  water.  Over  them  are  neat  cradles,  in 
each  of  which  reposes  in  calorific  content  several  little 
ones  !  These  were  babes  prematurely  born  !  They 
are  being  fully  born — some  seven,  some  eight,  and 
some  not  quite  nine  months  old !  It  is  a  matter  to 
awaken  the  quaint  speculation  of  Montaigne,  or  the  fun 


262  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

of  a  Rabelais  or  some  other  humorous  lover  of  his  kind, 
to  see  these  little  inchoate  birdlings,  who  have  chipped 
the  shell  too  soon,  being  steamed  and  warmed  into  the 
full  glory  of  human  existence  over  a  kettle  of  vapor- 
ous water,  while  their  little  hands  and  eyelids  are 
folded  amidst  genial  cradle-clothes  !  Here  are  those 
who  are  to  assist  in  bearing  up  this  vast  empire— 
these  little  Russians,  who  are  to  take,  with  their  big- 
sounding  names,  their  whiskey  straight,  or  add  a  'koff 
to  their  other  complaints — who  are  to  wage  future 
wars  or  study  the  sciences  of  the  coming  time — who, 
from  the  Crimea  to  the  Neva,  and  from  the  Chinese 
Wall  to  the  Lapland  of  the  Arctics,  are  to  upbear  the 
Greek  Church,  with  its  ages  of  veneration,  and  the 
enormous  realm  with  three  hundred  differing  tribes 
and  tongues  !  Here  they  lie,  sleeping  unconsciously, 
yet  maturing  for  the  duties  of  life  1  Near  by  them  is 
a  scale,  with  a  few  weights — very  light  weights — to 
test  the  streno-th  and  health  of  these  incarnate  imma- 
turities.  Their  normal  weis^ht  is  said  to  be  nine 
pounds,  and  if  they  attain  that  in  a  certain  time,  under 
these  incubating  processes,  they  are  well  insured. 
We  are  told  that  of  these  only  twenty  per  cent,  are 
saved,  which  is  a  consideration  not  to  be  forgotten  by 
a  veteran  "life-saver,"  as  I  often  boast  myself  to  be. 
One  of  these  little  Muscovy  ducklings  lifted  its 
trembling  pink  eyelid  and  looked  at  me,  a  little  doubt- 
ful of  my  object.  Its  tiny  fingers  faintly  twined  about 
mine,  and  with  a  sigh  and  a  timid  chirp — hardly  a 
sound — it  sank  again  to  its  nebulous  contemplation 
of  life  and  its  mysterious  surroundings,  I  cannot  re- 
call any  of  my  infantile  emotions,  or  fragmentary 
ideas.  The  child  may  be  the  father  to  the  man;  but 
it  must  have  some  little  maturity  to  dominate  in  a 
paternal  way  over  the  full-grown  sire.     Poets  have 


LOWER    LIFE    IN  RUSSIA.  26$ 

sung  of  the  prcinonilions  which  wc  have  of  an  ini- 
mortahty  before  birth,  and  I  should  suppose  that 
something-  of  its  "  traihng  cloud  of  glory  "  would 
hang  at  least  in  ragged  fringes  upon  our  novitiate  in 
this  world.  But  whether  these  things  be  or  not,  I 
felt  like  singing  the  refrain  that — 

"Gentleness  is  a  little  thing 

Dropped  in  the  heart's  deep  well, 
The  joy,  the  good  which  it  may  bring, 
Eternity  may  tell." 

Indeed  it  may  be  told  in  this  world,  sometimes 
from  certain  rules  of  heredity;  but  that,  in  this  in- 
stitution, is  only  one-half  known,  as  the  parent  of 
one  sex  only  is  known.  How  could  one  help  won- 
dering what  would  be  the  fate  of  this  Jilius  nullius? 
Who  knows  but  there  are  here  Potempkins  and  Or- 
loffs  in  potentiality,  Todlebens  with  trophies  of  future 
Plevnas,  and  diplomatic  Gortschakoffs  dressed  in  all 
the  decorations?  Why  may  not  imagination  conjure 
up  a  Peter  the  Great  not  born  to  the  purple  or  smoth- 
ered in  fine  linen,  a  founder  of  empire,  or  a  Cath- 
arine II.,  bold,  skilful,  and  wonderful  in  ability?  If 
Gray  could  fancy  mute,  inglorious  Miltons  and  guilt- 
less Crom wells  in  a  country  churchyard,  is  it  too  au- 
dacious a  flight  here  to  draw  upon  the  same  faculty 
for  hands  to  sway  the  rod  of  empire  or  touch  the 
lyre? 

Recalling  the  little  ones  I  once  saw  next  to  my 
own  house  in  New  York,  when  Sister  Irene  opened 
her  arms  and  her  door  to  the  foundlinos  of  that 
city,  and  leaving  the  morality  of  this  city  of  667,000 
people,  with  its  foundlings  rating  10,000  a  year,  to 
be  measured  by  others  than  myself,  I  was  aroused 
by  a  call  to  go  below  and  see  how  the  black  bread 


264  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

was  baked,  and  to  drink  some  of  the  barley  beer 
with  which  the  estabHshment  is  run,  through  the 
kindly  agency  of  the  wet  nurses.  In  fact,  it  may 
be  stated  that  the  future  of  these  infants  depends  on 
the  digestion  of  these  stalwart  women. 

One  room  has  nine  infants  laid  out  in  litde  coffins, 
covered  with  white  paper.  We  take  a  peep  at  them. 
They  have  each  had  a  post-nwrtoji  examination,  and 
their  life  record  is  made  up  and  entered  near  their 
number  on  the  rolls  of  the  infantry.  Nearly  all  die 
of  catarrh  of  the  lungs  or  intestines,  their  mucous 
membrane  being  the  tenderest  of  their  susceptibilities. 
I  noticed  that  the  lower  lip  of  these  little  dead  people 
had  been  slit.  Why  ?  I  am  told  to  show  the  de- 
velopment of  the  teeth,  for  some  purpose  not  very 
clear  to  my  mind. 

Then  we  visit  a  room  where  the  diseased  are 
cared  for.  Some  are  malformed.  One  we  noticed 
with  "talipes."  Its  tiny  feet  were  being  treated  so 
as  to  make  them  walk  straight — a  possible  cure,  says 
the  doctor.  Another  has  a  harelip,  which  an  early 
surgical  operation  may  amend. 

Then  we  ascend  to  the  upper  story,  which  is  a 
clean  chapel  of  the  Orthodox  Greek  Church.  Its 
altar  is  richly  bedight  in  gold  and  pictures  of  saints 
and  children,  with  beautiful  representations  of  Him 
who  did  not  disdain  to  care  for  the  litde  children 
of  this  world.  A  dress  of  the  Czar  Paul's  beautiful 
wife — her  coronation  dress,  which  the  ladies  admire 
greatly — is  shown  us  in  a  glass  case.  It  was  a  pres- 
ent from  her  to  the  institution,  of  which  she  was  a 
patroness.  Other  pictures  of  royal  personages,  who 
have  given  their  aid  and  patronage  to  this  good  end, 
appear  about  the  walls;  and  then,  after  many  thanks 
and  some  copecks  to  these  guardians  of  the  lost  chil- 


LOWER    LIFE    IN   RUSSIA.  265 

dren  of  sin  and  poverty — we  feel  refreshed  by  the 
open  air. 

Thus  in  one  day,  in  this  strange  palatial  city, 
we  have  seen  the  phases  of  death  and  of  life;  and 
the  human  or  humane  provisions  for  these  emer- 
i^encies  of  our  race.  They  form  strange  contrasts 
with  each  other,  and,  together,  a  still  stranger  con- 
trast with  the  wealth  and  splendor  of  this  empire, 
which  has  scarcely  any  bounds  to  its  realm,  and  none 
to  its  ambition. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

PETERHOFF  —  ITS    PLEASURES    AND    PALACES  —  ITS    RE- 
GALITIES   AND    RICHES. 

"  The  smoke  ascends  to  Heaven  as  lightly  from  the  cottage  hearth 
As  from  the  haughty  palace.     He,  whose  soul 
Ponders  this  true  equality,  may  walk 
TJie  fields  of  eartJi  with  gratitude  and  hope  : 
Yet,  in  that  meditation  will  ]ie  find 
Motive  to  sadder  grief,  as  we  have  found 
Lamenting  ancient  virtues  overthrowti. 
And  for  the  injustice  grieving,  that  hath  made 
So  wide  a  difference  betwixt  man  and  man." 

Wordsworth. 

IN  no  country  in  the  world  has  there  been  such  dis- 
tinctions of  caste,  between  ruler  and  ruled,  be- 
tween Czar  and  people,  between  master  and  serf,  as 
in  Russia.  In  no  time  has  this  been  more  apparent 
than  when  the  regenerator  of  Russia — Peter  the 
Great — ruled.  The  serfs  were  from  the  earliest  days 
called  "  black,"  as  distinguished  from  the  old  dynastic 
race  of  Russia — which  was  alleged  to  be  of  Rurick 
the  Fair,  from  which  the  name  of  Russia  is  derived. 
He  was  not  a  Sclav,  but  of  the  fair-haired  race  of  the 
north,  whose  civilization  we  have  traced  in  our  jour- 
neying. The  Normans  were  the  ancestors  of  this 
ruling  race,  and  from  them,  as  from  a  fountain,  came 
the  great  lords,  whose  names  were  written  in  the 
*'  velvet  volume,"  or  the  "  book  of  gold  "  of  the  Rus- 
sian noblesse.  These  proud  nobles  were  the  boyars, 
who  were  held  by  Peter  not  fit  to  unloose  the  latchet 


PETERIIOFF.  267 

of  his  shoes;  and  this  Peter  was  called  "The  Great," 
because  he  was  so  far  above  all  that  he  could  afford 
to  condescend.  He  could,  without  loss  of  caste,  carve 
furniture,  make  tools,  and  construct  ships  and  houses 
with  his  own  hand.  There  is  nothing  which  the 
hand  of  this  Ca^'sar  did  not  endeavor  to  build.  The 
most  elegant  of  all  his  works — and  they  are  beyond 
computation — is  that  of  the  palaces  and  parks  of 
Petcrhoff.  It  is  not  one,  but  many  palaces;  and 
cannot  be  omitted  by  any  one  who  makes  a  study  of 
the  Russian  realm. 

To  it  we  gave  one  of  our  most  delightful  days  in 
August.  It  is  not  difficult  to  reach  it;  and,  as  it' is 
the  present  residence  of  the  present  hunted  Czar, 
who  makes  a  covert  of  a  part  of  its  secluded  grounds, 
it  had  and  has  a  peculiar  interest.  Our  guide,  had 
advised  us,  days  before,  of  the  charm  in  store  for 
us.  After  seeing  it,  we  record  it  as  far  beyond  our 
expectation. 

Our  way  to  it,  is  down  the  river  Neva  and  into 
the  Gulf  of  Finland,  a  two  hours'  journey  over  the 
broad  surface,  but  in  a  narrow  channel.  The  steamer, 
though  not  laroe,  is  an  cleQf^-nt  one.  It  is  not  crowded 
to-day,  and  we  have  plentiful  opportunity  to  wander 
about  the  boat  and  look  at  both  sides  of  the  river, 
without  curious  eyes  peering  after  us  suspiciously. 
We  pass  the  many  elegant  yellow  brick-stuccoed 
houses  and  palaces  on  the  Neva,  and  are  especially 
attracted  by  the  grand  Museum  of  Art,  which  we 
had  already  visited.  From  the  river,  as  we  gaze 
back,  the  splendid  gilded  spire  over  the  tombs  of  the 
Czar,  as  tall  as  Trinity,  and  as  bright  as  crystal,  dazzles 
the  eye,  while  the  gilded  dome  of  St.  Isaac's  minster 
is  never  out  of  sight.  The  quay  along  the  river  is  of 
heavy  granite.     The   river  is  as  wide  as  the   East 


268  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

River  at  Brooklyn.  There  are  boats  of  huge  di- 
mensions in  the  stream,  or  moored  by  the  banks. 
These  are  made  only  for  temporary  navigation 
in  the  far  inland  country,  on  the  Volga,  or  some 
other  stream,  which  the  canal  system  of  Russia  en- 
ables to  flow  to  the  capital.  They  are  laden  with 
grain,  hay,  and  other  farm  products.  Soon  we  enter 
the  gulf,  and  its  low  state  appears  by  the  very  color 
of  the  water,  and  by  the  buoys  that  mark  the  chan- 
nel. Over  to  the  right  we  perceive  the  dredging 
machines  of  the  American  company — about  which 
our  English  friend,  Mr.  Burt,  advised  us,  and  of 
which  he  is  superintendent.  They  are  making  a 
new  channel;  and  under  many  disadvantages  not  of 
a  mechanical  nature.  It  is  the  slowness  of  the  pay, 
and  its  uncertainty,  and  the  red  tape  of  the  officers, 
or  something  worse,  which  hinders  this  improvement. 
So  poor  are  the  navigation  facilities  that  it  takes  as 
lono;  to  oret  cToods  from  Cronstadt  to  St.  Petersburcr, 
only  twenty  miles,  as  from  London  to  Cronstadt; 
and  the  cost  is  greater.  Lighters  have  to  do  the 
last  and  smallest  portion  of  the  voyage.  However, 
this  shallow  channel  once  had  its  advantage,  in  the 
Crimean  war.  It  enabled  Russia  to  foil  Napier  and 
his  fleet.  It  was  the  safeguard  of  the  great  capital. 
Since  then  it  is  doubly  guarded.  Its  old  fort  is 
strengthened;  and  it  seems  now  as  if  the  city  were 
impregneible  from  any  attack  by  sea. 

On  our  voyage  hither,  from  Sweden  and  Finland, 
we  had  remarked  the  beautiful  grounds,  on  the  south 
side  of  the  gulf,  and  a  mile  or  more  from  our  channel, 
embosomed  in  green  trees  and  decorated  with  pala- 
tial edifices.  This  was  Peterhoff.  We  then  prom- 
ised ourselves  a  nearer  view,  but  when  we  land,  we 
find  many  preliminary  vestibules  to  the  palace  itself, 


PETERHOFF.  269 

which  are  even  more  interesting-.  If  it  were  difficult 
to  build  St.  Petersburg-  on  a  firm  foundation  out  of 
the  low  marshes  of  the  gulf,  it  was  not  so  with  Peter- 
hoff,  for  it  has  a  rise  above  the  level  of  some  sixty 
feet!  This  is  not  much,  but  in  a  level  country,  like 
Russia,  it  is  a  good  deal.  What  of  embellishment 
Peter  refrained  from  putting  upon  his  capital  and  its 
palaces,  he  lavished  here,  for  its  factories  and  homes, 
its  waters  and  palaces,  its  woods  and  ruins,  are  the 
crown  jewels  of  his  edifying  genius  !  It  far  surpasses, 
in  its  surroundings,  any  place  of  the  kind  we  have 
yet  seen,  not  excepting  Versailles  and  Hampton 
Court,  Windsor,  or  the  Copenhagen  Hermitage. 
The  palace  itself  is  a  Koh-i-noor,  set  in  the  midst 
of  a  dozen  brilliants,  each  worthy  of  an  oriental 
crown ! 

I  have  perused  a  volume  written  by  an  Austrian 
Secretary  of  Legation  at  the  court  of  Moscow  in 
1700.  I  found  it — a  lone  copy — in  an  old  desk  at 
the  Constantinople  hotel.  If  this  diary  at  the  court 
of  Peter  be  a  true  account  of  the  conduct  of  this 
czar,  he  was  as  blood-thirsty  as  he  was  energetic. 
The  knout  and  the  torture  were  his  instruments  of 
extracting  testimony  to  condemn  his  own  sister  and 
his  best  subjects.  New  racks  were  made  for  every 
fresh  rebel,  and  every  fresh  rebel  was  the  object  of 
this  czar's  inventive  diabolism.  But  for  the  romantic 
glamour  around  Peter's  life,  as  a  ship-carpenter  and 
general  genius  of  all  work,  history  would  regard  him 
as  execrable.  This  book  contains  an  account  of  the 
tragic  execution  of  the  Strelitz;  and  it  was  this  ac- 
count which  irritated  the  czar  against  the  author  and 
his  volume.  It  has  a  description  of  the  figure  of  the 
colossal  square  wagon  fort,  in  which  the  Russians 
used  to  march  against  the  Tartars;  and  other  mat- 


270  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

ters  which  would  be  of  enofrossinor  interest  to  Mr. 
Schuyler,  who  is  now  writing  Peter's  life.  Among 
other  objects  of  interest  in  it,  it  is  said  that  the  Czar 
Peter,  in  the  year  a.  d.  1700,  had  no  mines  of  gold 
or  silver;  but  it  was  believed  that  they  had  been  dis- 
covered, in  rich  veins,  at  a  place  called  Kameni,  in 
Siberia.  Skilled  men  were  brought  into  the  country 
to  test  this  discovery.  This  was  the  tentative  exper- 
iment, the  crucible  in  which  the  first  precious  ele- 
ments of  Russia  were  tried.  To  what  a  prodigious 
success  this  has  been  carried  has  never  been  well 
stated  by  any  one  whom  I  have  read.  What,  you 
ask,  has  this  to  do  with  Peterhoff  ?  The  sequel  will 
show. 

The  value  of  these  mineral  resources  of  Russia  has 
not  been  fully  shown  or  known,  because  article?  of 
virtu  and  art,  made  out  of  the  raw  material,  are  mo- 
nopolized by  the  nobility  and  royal  family;  and,  be- 
cause the  iron  in  the  raw  and  in  the  manufacture  has 
never  been  greatly  exported.  The  Sevres  porcelain 
and  Gobelins  tapestry  were  exclusively  for  "  our  royal 
cousins;  "  and  so  were  the  articles  of  Russian  art. 
Still  the  recent  developments  tend  to  break  down 
these  monopolies  of  the  earth's  precious  treasures. 
It  is  not  grain,  tallow,  hides  and  honey  and  the  pro- 
duct of  the  field  which  make  Russia  great  in  her 
work.  It  is  not  the  cutlery  of  Tula,  nor  the  iron  of 
the  provinces  altogether,  which  make  up  the  stock 
in  trade  of  the  t^'reat  fairs  of  Russia,  although  these 
are  abundant.  It  is  computed  by  a  writer  in  the 
London  Times,  who  followed  us  closely  in  our  travels, 
"  that  at  the  Nijni  Novgorod  fair  of  last  year  7,453,163 
poods  of  iron  (62  poods  to  the  English  ton)  were 
brought  in  for  sale,  of  which  887,002  poods  were  not 
sold."    This  year  6,000,000  of  poods  are  here  already; 


PETRRHOFF.  271 

and  not  only  will  the  quantity  of  last  year  soon  ])c 
exceeded,  but  all  will  l)e  bouoht  up,  for  the  success  of 
a  Nijni  fair  depends  on  the  conditions  of  the  harvest 
throughout  the  empire;  and  while  1880  was  a  year 
of  famine,  the  crops  of  this  season  have  been  most 
satisfactory,  and  the  provincial  traders,  as  well  as  the 
peasantry,  have  money  enough  to  afford  the  journey 
hither  and  to  make  their  purchases. 

Even  what  one  sees  at  Nijni  Novgorod,  however, 
cannot  give  a  sufficient  idea  of  Russia's  wealth  in 
mineral  produce,  and  especially  in  iron.  The  statis- 
tics of  1875  give,  in  round  numbers,  26,000,000  of 
poods  of  cast  and  18,000,000  of  wrought  iron,  with 
789,280  poods  of  steel.  Much  of  the  cutlery  one 
sees  on  the  tables  of  hotels  and  restaurants  at  the 
capital,  or  in  provincial  towns,  is  of  home  manufac- 
ture, chiefly  from  Warsaw;  and  almost  all  earthen- 
ware, china  and  glass  equally  proceed  from  im- 
perial or  national  manufactories.  It  is,  as  a  rule, 
inferior  ware,  and  in  bad  taste;  and  the  knives  are 
evidently  made  "  to  sell  in  the  home  market,  as  the 
rule  is:  'Keep  your  money  in  your  own  country; 
stick  to  home  articles,  however  infinitely  better  and 
cheaper  may  be  the  goods  that  you  might  get  from  the 
foreigner.'"  The  earthenware,  china,  glass,  as  well  as 
cutlery,  are  home  made.  Russia  makes  a  good  deal  of 
poor  quality.  She  is  "protective"  and  endeavors  to 
supply  herself,  to  her  own  cost.  Her  Siberian  and 
Central  Asian  possessions  are  the  repertoires  of  her 
choicest  jewels  and  values.  The  region  of  expiation 
and  exile  is  now  looming  up  as  Australia  came  forth 
out  of  the  convict  land.  Civilization  is  claiming 
Siberia  for  herself.  Her  mineral  resources,  how- 
ever, are  what  attract  the  most  attention. 

Among  the   many   items  of  interest   which  the 


272  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

x^ustrian  Pepys  has  not  omitted  from  his  gossip  in 
the  chance  vohmie  referred  to,  is  one  which  recog- 
nizes the  discovery  of  the  mineral  and  jewelled  wealth 
of  Russia,  then  just  opening  in  the  Ural  Mountains 
and  in  Siberia,  under  the  energy  of  Peter  the  Great, 
and  now  such  an  immense  source  of  values  and  traffic 
in  Russia.  It  was  shortly  after  this  that  the  Czar  be- 
gan to  build  St.  Petersburg  (1703),  and  twenty  years 
afterward  he  began  the  construction  of  this  country 
palace  of  Peterhoff.  He  had  found  the  lamp  of  Alad- 
din in  the  caves  of  Siberia. 

When  we  first  arrived  at  St.  Petersburg  we  visited 
the  School  of  Mining,  where  the  minerals  and  precious 
stones  of  Russia  are  collected  in  the  matrix  for  in- 
struction, and  where  underground  there  are  artificial 
galleries  made  to  illustrate  the  teaching  in  this  vast 
domain  of  Russian  affluence.  In  our  visits  to  the 
"  Hermitage  "  and  other  city  palaces  and  museums, 
as  well  as  to  similar  places  in  other  capitals,  we  had 
been  wonder  struck  at  the  immense  number  and  rich- 
ness of  the  trophies  made  by  Russian  art,  out  of  her 
own  Siberian  and  Ural  resources.  Vases  and  gems, 
monuments  and  marbles,  gold  and  silver  ornaments 
of  every  shape  were  the  gifts  of  Russian  royalty  to 
the  royal  houses  of  Europe. 

It  seemed  that  in  Russia  itself  there  was  a 
profusion,  for  which  we  could  not  account  by  any 
modes  of  fabrication  yet  seen.  This  was  all  made 
clear,  however,  when  we  were  ushered — hats  off  and 
in  whispering  awe — within  the  imperial  marble  fac- 
tory at  Peterhoff.  It  was  our  first  visit  there.  To 
its  explanation  our  guide  Pilley  gave  his  best  energy 
in  English  and  knowledge  of  science;  and  it  must  be 
said  for  him  that,  whatever  his  chances  for  study  may 
have    been,    gems    and    marbles    are    his    specialty. 


PETERflOFF.  273 

This  we  found  out  afterward,  when  he  opened  liis 
bud<^et  of  mineral  beauties  to  us — for  sale.  How  he 
rolled  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  his  tongue  the  very 
names  of  these  hard  metallurgical  substances !  Pic- 
tures were  tame,  shrines  tawdry,  and  waterfalls  noisy 
nothings  compared  with  his  eloquent  exordia  and 
perorations  upon  this,  his  favorite  topic.  Rising  with 
each  object  of  value  and  virtu,  he  at  once  measured 
its  value  in  taste  and  in  rubles.  Rubles  seemed  a 
word  so  roundly  rich  and  golden  that  the  very  phrase 
for  the  estimation  of  jewels  and  jaspers,  malachite 
and  amethysts  seemed  itself  a  gem  of  inestimable 
worth. 

"Look,  lady,  look!"  he  would  cry.  "This  is 
nefrite — see!  It  is  in  the  rough;  but  it  is  worth 
alone  four  thousand  rubles  as  it  stands !  This  is 
jade!  It  is  to  be  made  in  all  shapes.  What  is  in 
this  glass  case  is  a  fortune  in  rubles !  That  lapis- 
lazuli  is  enormous.  Look !  It  is  worth  twenty-five 
thousand  rubles!  It  will  take  months  to  work  up 
one  piece  into  a  vase  like  that !  Come !  See  these 
revolving  tables.  The  workmen  are  at  dinner;  but 
that  man  will  show  us.  Observe  those  plans  on  the 
paper;  those  engravings  on  the  wall;  that  portfolio 
of  designs — all  to  be  reproduced  out  of  these  flakes 
of  jasper !  Panels  for  palaces  !  Look,  sir,  look  !  Fur- 
niture out  of  that  malachite;  the  shades  of  nature  set 
in  vernal  beauty,  all  put  together  as  if  of  one  piece ! 
That  lapis-lazuli,  lady,  is  worth  one  hundred  and  fifty 
rubles  a  pound !  See,  lady !  There  is  a  bushel  of 
emeralds,  all  in  the  rough,  but  not  more  valuable  in 
rubles  than  the  rodenite  in  that  mass  yonder ! " 

The  men  soon  come  in  from  their  meals,  and 
begin  the  slow  process,  by  wheel  and  lathe,  to 
grind    down    with    their    polishing    diamond    pow- 


2  74  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

der  the  hard  substances.  Here  are  the  items  which, 
when  put  together,  make  the  unaccountable  sum 
in  rubles,  vases,  and  mosaic !  Each  of  the  pre- 
cious stones  were  being  polished  down  for  ve- 
neering, and  marked  and  graded  as  to  quality 
and  utility.  Crystals  were  being  made  into  vases, 
objects  of  virtu  and  bric-a-brac,  in  countless  forms, 
for  the  boudoir,  and  of  every  hue  and  form  of  beauty. 
Aqua-marine,  with  its  tender  blue  tint,  and  lapis- 
lazuli,  black  with  richness,  in  pieces  of  fifteen-pound 
weight,  were  seen  about  the  halls — being  copies  from 
the  galleries  of  paintings  and  drawings  upon  the 
walls.  Round  about  upon  their  pedestals,  them- 
selves to  be  counted  in  rubles,  were  placed  the 
finished  articles,  on  which  years  of  toil  and  skill  had 
been  employed.  They  were  ready  when  sent  for, 
and  waited  the  caprice  of  the  royal  owners. 

We  passed  out  of  this  valuable  collection,  through 
a  guard  of  Circassian  soldiers,  and  past  fences  of  straw 
thatch  upon  the  rustic  road.  Before  we  know  the 
total  value  in  taste  or  gold  of  this  museum,  we  are 
whisked  away  from  the  factory  and  its  products  by 
our  rapid  guide,  to  a  fairy  palace,  called  "  Mine 
Own." 

It  is  a  French  chalet,  upon  the  imperial  domain 
of  Peterhoff.  It  is  surrounded  on  its  four  sides  by 
gardens  of  flowers,  and  a  lake,  a  bridge  and  a  chapel 
in  the  shrubbery.  It  was  a  petite  Trianon;  only  it 
seemed  so  fresh,  and  wore  no  air  of  sadness  or  an- 
tiquity. Each  flower  seemed  to  be  bedewed  that 
morning,  and  the  light  gave  it  a  fragrance  and  a 
sparkle  quite  harmonious  with  the  gems  which  we  had 
just  left  unplucked  by  the  royal  hand.  In  the  chapel 
a  lamp  was  burning  at  the  shrine,  where  the  pro- 
ducts  of  the   factory  glistened  in  sacred  loveliness. 


PETER  [lOFF.  275 

There  is  no  mention  in  the  sj^uide-books  of  this  pa- 
viHon,  and  there  is  no  equal  to  it  which  we  have 
seen,  except  the  Rosendal  in  the  Deer  Garden. 
near  Stockholm — a  counterfeit  presentment  of  this 
royal  nest.  We  mention  it  with  enthusiasm,  because 
it  was  not  of  the  auo'ust  order,  but  rather  of  the  do- 
mestic, as  if  woman's  fine  ethereal  taste  had  graced 
the  plans  for  its  erection  and  adornment.  I  found 
that  my  wife  darted  from  one  dainty  room  to  an- 
other, with  a  bird-like  flutter  of  impatience  at  not 
being  able  to  take  it  all  in  at  once.  The  walls  were 
hung  with  delicate  brocades.  Each  room  had  its  pet 
color — blue,  yellow,  white  and  pink.  The  bed-room 
contained  a  gilded  couch,  whose  bath-room  had  a 
sculptured  marble  basin  and  a  ceiling  of  mirrors,  the 
effect  of  which  was  as  unique  as  it  was  unexpected, 
for  it  reversed  us  as  we  looked  up,  and  must  have 
had  a  curious  effect  on  the  living  Naiads  who  dis- 
ported doubly  and  upside  down  in  its  waters.  We 
saw  ourselves  that  the  nymphs  which  held  up  the 
marble  baths  were  doubled  by  reflection.  Polished 
floors  and  rarest  pictures,  were  as  exquisite  as  art  could 
design,  money  buy  or  royalty  wish;  and  everywhere 
the  result  of  the  rouorh  dust  and  whirlincr  lathe  of 
the  factory  we  had  already  seen.  Ah!  that  "Mine 
Own "  was  only  fondly  mine  own !  What  joy  to 
gaze  at  the  exquisite  delineations  and  colors  of  Van 
Loo  and  Watteau,  Greuse  and  Isabey — whose  pal- 
ettes were  employed  by  endless  rubles  of  reward  and 
crowninsf  o-uerdons  of  orenius !  The  odor  of  sandal 
wood  fills  the  pleasant  chambers,  and  makes,  with 
the  shapes,  lights  and  colors  almost  another  sense. 
Here  in  one  chamber  are  all  the  beauties  of  the  courts 
of  France;  for  is  it  not  a  petite  palais?  Here,  we 
see  the  silks  of  Moscow  and  the  china  of  Dresden. 


276  FROM   POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

"All  good,  all — look,  lady,  look!"  cries  out  Pilley; 
"no  Brummagem!" 

One  of  the  rooms  thus  decorated  contains  all 
the  female  relations  of  the  Czar.  It  is  of  richest 
yellow,  a  color  quite  as  much  the  vogue  in  Russia 
as  in  Norway,  or  in  aesthetic-land.  Around  upon 
tables  are  porcelain  vases  of  curious  design  and 
pictured  loveliness.  The  chapel  is  discerned  out  of 
one  of  the  windows.  You  may  know  it  to  be  regal 
by  the  golden  crown  above  its  gilded  dome.  We 
enter  the  elegant  little  church.  It  is  devoted  to  the 
patron  saint  of  Russia,  Alexander  Nevsky,  whose 
image — only  painted,  x\oX.  graven — is  enclosed,  all  save 
its  sad,  dark  face,  by  chased  silver  and  rich  enamel. 

We  pass  into  the  sylvan  road  again,  and  look 
about  us.  How  common  that  woman  looks  outside, 
in  her  rude  attire,  after  seeing  these  portraits  of  the 
princesses  and  queens  of  the  Romanoff  and  Bourbon 
dynasties.  How  patiently  she  weeds  the  cabbages! 
These  are  the  oxen,  are  they — who  support  the  great 
basin  in  which  the  luxuriant  children  of  earth  lave 
their  delicate  limbs? 

But  moralizing  is  of  no  moment  here;  nor  cal- 
culations in  rubles,  as  to  how  much  of  the  Russian 
public  debt  the  crown  jewels,  silks  and  vases  might 
discharge  if  put  under  the  hammer.  For  we  are  out 
now  under  nature's  sweet  air,  under  avenues  of  oak 
and  birch;  to  be  repeated  for  another  wonder,  in  the 
English  palace. 

This  is  in  an  English  park,  laid  out  by  an  English 
gardener,  after  English  style.  It  is  a  large,  roomy 
and  tasteless  edifice,  into  which,  as  not  into  the 
French  palace,  "  Mine  Own  " — no  royal  permit  is 
needed.  Balls  are  given  here  for  charities.  It  was 
built  in   1 78 1,  by  the  Great  Catharine.     It  holds  her 


rErERlIOFF.  Z'j'j 

contemporary  sovereigns  in  portraiture.  A  Russian 
Empress,  Elizabeth  on  horseback,  is  striking;  and 
not  less  so,  the  black  boy  running  in  Oriental  style 
by  her  side.  In  another  chamber  Catharine  is  mounted, 
like  John  the  Baptist's  head,  on  a  charger.  She  rides, 
like  our  Indian  squaws  and  Turkish  women,  astride. 
She  is  barbaric  and  rides  well.  In  fact  she  looks 
every  inch  a  man,  and  she  is  not  too  easily  con- 
founded with  the  gentler  sex.  This  palace  cannot 
readily  be  forgotten,  for  its  portraits  are  perfectly 
appalling — in  this,  that  the  royal  ladies  are  pictured 
in  the  quaint  fashion  and  the  hideous  immensity  of 
the  time,  when  panniers  were  worn  on  hip  and  back. 
It  made  monsters  of  them!  Hogsheads  do  not  fur- 
nish the  Brobdignagian  metaphor  adequate  to  ex- 
press the  grotesque  behemothean  largeness  of  these 
mothers  of  princes.  Maria  Theresa  was  simply  moun- 
tainous and  the  Grand  Duchesses  about  her  were  even 
more  grandiose  than  Maria!  What  they  were  about, 
no  mensuration  can  tell. 

As  we  re-enter  the  park,  we  begin  to  observe  in 
every  avenue  and  at  every  turn  the  Cossacks  of  the 
Don  on  horseback,  with  full  apparel,  cartridge,  gun, 
overcoat  and  folded  blanket.  Each  horseman  is  on 
the  alert.  There  is  something  unusual  astir.  Is  it 
the  Czar? 

We  read  of  the  precaution  of  the  officers  of  the 
Czar  in  dodging  public  curiosity,  as  to  where  and 
when  he  will  be  seen.  No  wonder,  since  the  late 
assassination.  We  also  hear  of  the  dishes  which  he 
eats  and  of  his  enormous  appetite,  which  he  whets 
by  the  Russian  caviar,  or  zuluska.  Without  this — 
which  is  a  mixture  on  a  side  table,  of  herring,  dried 
salmon,  sardines,  cheese,  bread  and  butter,  with  raw 
beets  soaked  in  brandy  and  bitters  and  vodka  (the 


278  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

worst  of  Russian  liquors) — the  sterlet  of  the  Volga,  a 
rare  fish,  and  the  soup,  beef,  chicken  and  substantial 
would  be  eaten  without  relish  and  with  much  indiges- 
tible suspicion.  There  seems  more  danger  to  the 
Czar  in  this  appetite  than  in  the  dynamics  of  chemis- 
try or  the  bullet  of  Nihilism. 

But  were  we  not  told  by  the  guide  and  by  the 
journals  that  he  was  not  here  to-day;  that  he 
had  not  yet  arrived  from  Moscow  and  the  Nov- 
gorod fair.-^  But  we  seem,  nevertheless,  to  be  an 
object  of  vigilance,  and  so  we  return  the  vigils 
and  watch  the  Cossacks  of  the  Don.  However, 
we  are  not  challenged,  and  drive  to  the  "  Straw 
Cottage."  It  is  of  brick,  but  thatched  with  straw. 
It  is  to  the  left  of  the  main  palace,  and  that  we  are 
near  to  that,  the  presence  of  the  Cossacks  attest.  The 
rooms  of  this  odd  cottage — a  freak  of  Catharine — are 
mirrored  all  over.  They  add,  in  appearance,  to  its 
size.  One  room  is  checkered  in  diamond  pattern, 
with  artificial  vines  and  a  mirrored  ceiling,  a  leather 
divan  and  a  garden  outlook.  We  still  follow  our 
guide  with  one  eye,  and  have  the  other  on  "  the 
Don,"  and  not  on  the  guide-book,  which  seems  to 
be  quite  meagre  in  its  details  of  Peterhoff  and  the 
many  planetary  splendors  which  surround  the  main 
orb,  toward  which  our  centripetal  guide  is  bearing  us 

We  next  visit  Marly.  This  was  a  favorite  place 
for  the  Great  Peter.  He  lived  here.  The  furniture 
is  of  his  time  and  make.  Here  he  used  to  observe 
his  fleet  in  the  Gulf  His  bed  is  here:  how  many 
beds  he  had — a  restless  man !  All  made  by  his  own 
hands !  The  clothes  presented  to  him  by  the  Shah 
of  Persia  and  the  Chinese  Emperor  are  shown;  and 
the  woi'ks  he  did,  including  those  of  a  watch.  But 
these  are  not  the  marvels  of  Marly. 


PETERHOFF.  279 

We  go  out  upon  the  balcony  overlooking  a  little 
lake,  and  M.  Pilley  throws  food  to  the  carp  who  rush 
ravenously  in  schools  for  it,  at  the  sound  of  a  bell. 
These  were  Peter's  fish.  There  is  also  an  oak  which 
he  planted  here. 

We  were  soon  again  in  the  park,  with  an  eye 
single  still  on  the  horsemen  of  the  Don.  Then  we 
go  to  a  curious  palace,  small  and  old,  odd  and  outre. 
It  is  called  the  Hermitage,  and  was  one  of  Peter's 
pets.  It  had  a  dry  moat  about  it.  If  the  moat  was 
not  always  dry,  its  old  inmates  were  not  either,  for 
this  is  the  place  where  it  is  said  Catharine  had  her 
orgies.  We  are  shown  an  upper  chamber  for  din- 
ing. The  tables  and  chairs  remain,  and  contrivances 
by  which,  on  ringing  a  bell,  your  plate  goes  below, 
and  your  dish  of  meats  comes  up.  No  servants  were 
admitted.  It  is  said — how  gossip  runs  riot  in  his- 
tory— that  the  debaucheries  of  the  royal  nudities  of 
the  time  were  here  celebrated.  Certainly  there  was 
some  design  in  this  culinary  mechanism,  and  if  the 
half  be  true  of  Catharine,  Potempkin,  and  the  sorry 
lot  of  that  time  they  needed  some  patent  to  keep 
them  hid.  The  room  now  seems  dead  and  bare;  the 
champagne  has  long  since  lost  its  sparkle.  The  gar- 
lands of  these  roystering  royalties  are  faded;  their 
fragrance  is — unfragrant.  There  is  a  serious  part  to 
these  performances  of  the  great  empress,  but  it  is  not 
found  in  the  rear  of  this  house  of  ill-repute,  and  it  is 
no  less  than  a  comic  piece  of  clock-work  in  water,  by 
which,  when  the  fountain  is  turned  on,  some  artificial 
ducks  swim  around.  They  do  not  squawk  like  the 
famous  one  Vaucanson  made,  but  there  is  a  dog 
which  follows  them,  and  he  barks,  while  they  all 
spurt  water  in  a  funny  way.  I  observed  this  closely, 
but  I  kept  an  eye  out  for  the  Cossacks  of  the  Don. 


28o  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

Montplaiser,  is  another  little  palace,  once  belonging 
to  and  Inhabited  by  Peter — for  he  was  not  Peter  the 
hermit,  but  lived  wherever  he  could  plan  or  build. 
At  Montplaiser,  the  Empress  Elizabeth  turned  cook, 
they  say,  and  made  her  own  porridge  and  ate  it  her- 
self. Peter  put  in  some  of  his  Dutch  purchases  of 
paintings  here;  for  while  he  worked  as  a  shipwright  at 
Zaandam  he  had  an  eye  on  Paul  Potter  and  his  cattle, 
and  Wouverman  with  his  gray  horses.  This  palace  is 
odd,  and  takes  its  honors  as  a  quaint  whim  of  royalty. 
While  thus  roaming  amidst  pleasures  and  pal- 
aces, we  are  passing  between  the  beautiful  fountains 
which  are  the  special  charm,  the  prismatic  glories  of 
Peterhoff.  This  is  their  hour  and  day  for  play. 
There  are  fountains  here  of  every  conceit.  There 
are  green  hedges  and  gardens,  with  fountains  and 
rainbows.  There  is  the  "  Alcove,"  where  you  may 
be  seated  while  the  water  runs  in  divided  silver  over 
the  roof  that  covers  you.  There  is  an  artificial  tree 
— the  old  joke  at  Chats  worth  and  elsewhere — where 
a  seat  invites  you,  and  innumerable  jets  in  the  rear 
of  your  seat  dampen  your  ardor.  There  is  the  open 
Greek  temple,  surrounded  by  jets  d'eau,  and  with 
bronze  divinities  and  nymphs — a  most  graceful  and 
classical  adornment.  The  hillside  gives  us  the  step 
waterfalls,  one  of  which  is  of  white  marble  and  has 
its  balustrades  and  statues  of  similar  material,  and 
another  of  gilded  steps,  down  which  the  water  trips 
in  light,  fantastic  beauty,  and  still  another  of  black 
and  white  checker- work — or  rather  an  inclined  pave- 
ment flanked  by  statues  over  which  the  water  glides 
in  fleecy  lace-work  until  it  falls  in  shining  sheets 
upon  the  successive  steps  before  the  final  cascade, 
and  still  one  more  of  pyramidal  form  and  of  exquisite 
effect.     All  these  whimsical  water  sprites  seem  to 


FETE  A' II  OFF.  28 1 

be  but  "  ministers  of  o-i'^ce "  to  the  maornificcnt 
Sampson  jet  of  eighty  feet  high.  It  is  so  named 
from  the  bronze  man  of  Gath  forcing  open  the  jaws 
of  the  lion,  from  which  rushes  the  lucent  lymph,  and 
from  which  is  thrown,  horizontally  and  vertically, 
other  fountains  full  of  sheafs  of  limpid  sunlight,  all 
prismatic  with  the  spectra.  From  this  are  a  succes- 
sion of  jets,  out  of  a  canal  which  is  fringed  with  trees, 
and  decorated  with  gardens,  extending  five  hundred 
yards  in  an  avenue  of  shady  loveliness,  where  it  finds 
rest  in  the  sea!  The  colonnades  give  fairy  retreats 
at  intervals,  with  fancy  tea-rooms  near  fountains, 
used  exclusively  by  royalty  ! 

This  complex  beauty  of  the  waters  is  more  splen- 
did than  that  of  Versailles.  They  have,  when  lighted, 
by  lamps  behind  the  sheets  and  fountains,  a  rarity 
of  optical  beauty  incomparably  fine.  Oh  !  for  an  illu- 
mination here  of  our  electric  lights  ! 

All  these  are  but  incidents  of  the  palace,  and 
serve  but  to  set  it  off.  If  we  enter  it,  is  not  the 
pleasure  gone  ?  Does  not  the  external  so  surpass 
the  interior  delight  as  to  make  the  latter  pall  ?  No; 
for  here  again  are  the  exclusive  productions  of  min- 
eral wealth,  tazzas  of  marble,  porcelain  and  mala- 
chite, as  well  as  articles  of  taste,  tapestries,  and  pict- 
ures of  national  and  local  color.  Each  one  is  a  rare 
gem  of  its  kind.  Here  are  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  pictures  of  Russian  maidens,  in  provincial  cos- 
tumes, representing  the  beauty  of  fifty  provinces,  a 
present  by  a  noble  artist  to  Catharine.  They  look 
alike — all  handsome  girls — asleep  or  smiling,  gayly 
or  plainly  attired,  in  different  positions,  to  give  some 
variety  to  their  unity.  The  playthings  of  the  Czars 
when  babies,  are  here  in  Japanese  and  Chinese  rooms, 
gilded  rooms  to  make  one  wonder;   Dresden  china 


282  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

ornaments  and  glass  ceilings  to  make  one  amazed; 
eider-down  cushions  to  make  one  ache  to  sit  down, 
and  tapestry  so  rare  that  one  cannot  tell  it  from  the 
richest  product  of  the  easel.  One  painting  is  of  es- 
pecial import.  It  represents  the  scene  in  Peter's  life, 
when  in  crossinQ^  Lake  Ladoo^an  he  took  the  helm 
from  the  frightened  mariners,  and  with  a  "  Yoit  carry 
Ccssar/"  saved  all. 

It  was  a  relief  when  we  reached  the  air  again,  for 
the  park  is  lovely.  At  least  so  thought  our  Cossacks 
of  the  Don,  for  on  hill  and  in  vale,  in  shadow  and  in 
light,  at  the  ends  of  avenues  and  in  the  woods  by 
the  pleasant  paths  and  sweet  waters,  they  sat  or 
rode,  vigilant  guardians  of  the  wood  where  Alex- 
ander, the  new  Czar,  lives !  As  we  turn  one  point, 
we  see  a  cavalcade  of  carriages  hurrying  by,  and  not 
dreaming  that  it  is  the  Czar,  are  not  eager  to 
look  or  pursue.  It  turned  out,  as  we  learned,  that 
it  was  the  Czar,  just  arrived  from  Moscow  unex- 
pectedly, as  Czars  come  and  go. 

We  had  noticed  much  preparation  to  guard  the 
grounds  of  Peterhoff.  Everywhere  were  Cossacks 
on  horseback,  their  guns  clone  up  in  black  sheepskin 
and  hung  neatly  on  their  backs.  They  watch  our 
lonely  carriage  with  more  than  usual  heed.  What 
can  be  the  matter  ?  Is  this  usual  ?  There  are  other 
watchmen,  who  unexpectedly  appear  in  quiet  spots 
in  the  big  forest.  In  fact,  except  a  few  boys 
who  are  fishing  in  the  waters,  or  at  certain  other 
places,  a  few  carts,  there  is  not  much  ot  human,  but 
a  great  deal  of  real,  nature  to  be  seen. 

I  ask  often,  of  Pilley:  "  Do  you  not  think  the  Em- 
peror is  here  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answers,  "  he  is  at  Moscow;  he  has  been 
to  Novgorod  to  open  the  fair." 


PETERIIOFF.  283 

**  But  why,"  wc  urge, — "  this  preparation?  Surely 
it  is  not  to  protect  his  Majesty  against  us  ?  " 

With  much  impatience,  Pilley  says:  "  If  I  could 
get  you  near  the  cottage,  the  cottage  within  that 
large  gate  we  passed,  you  could  not  see  the  Emperor 
or  Empress.  They  don't  live  in  palaces,  you  know: 
bless  you !  no !  They  live  in  a  little  cottage  in  an 
immense  park,  within  that  gateway;  and  are  as 
quiet  and  retired  as  English  folk  in  their  parks  and 
homes." 

When  I  arrived  at  the  hotel  and  found  the  "Journal 
de  St.  Petersburg"  of  the  26th  July  (7th  Aout,  new 
style),  I  was  sure  that  the  Emperor  and  Empress  had 
arrived;  and  that  we  had  missed  them.  We  learn  that 
they  returned  to  Peterhoff  yesterday,  at  "deux  heures 
de  r  apres  midi."  The  same  journal  gives  an  account 
of  their  enthusiastic  reception  at  Yaroslavl  and  other 
places  on  the  route  hither,  where  the  customary  bread 
and  salt  were  presented;  schools  and  militia  reviewed; 
and  pictures  of  saints  and  images  of  Christ,  ten- 
dered. At  one  of  these  points  of  royal  pleasure  it  is 
recorded  that — 

"  A  la  cath^drale  Msr  Jonathan  a  complimente  le  Souverain,  qui 
prouve  par  son  voyage  I'affection  qu'il  nourrit  pour  ses  fideles  sujets." 

This  Mgf  Jonathan,— can  it  be  our  own  Jonathan  ? 
Has  his  affection  turned  toward  Russia  ?  We  are 
ready  to  believe  as  Pilley  tells  us,  that  high-born 
ladies  smoke  and  "  liquor-up  "  ;  that  Peter  the  Great 
made  all  that  has  been  shown  us  as  his  handicraft,  and 
that  Russia  is  a  land  of  liberty;  but  can  we  believe 
that  Brother  Jonathan,  Puritan,  in  a  cathedral,  has 
apotheosized  the  Czar  ? 

We  were  not  permitted  to  enter  the  palace  where 
he  lives.     We  could  only  look  through  the  barred 


284  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

gates.  It  adjoins  the  gardens  of  the  old  palace,  but 
it  is  not  open  to  those  who  hesitate  on  the  old  query 
"  Aut  Caesar,  aut  Nihil." 

In  disregard  of  all  inner  monitions,  but  without 
any  molestation  from  our  Cossack  couriers,  we  drive 
to  the  lake.  A  little  flat  ferr}'-boat  bears  us  over  to 
a  fair}'  isle.  It  is  called  Queens  Isle.  The  pullers 
on  the  pullies  are  sailors  in  white  costume.  They 
hold  us  with  their  o-litterino-  eve,  as  we  hold  them 
bv  a  orlitterinsf  ruble.  Our  ooiide  bethinks  him  that 
we  are  of  the  land  of  \Vashins[ton.  He  takes  us 
beneath  the  shade  of  an  oak  some  thirtv  feet  hio-h. 
whereon  is  hung  a  brass  plate.  The  plate,  regis- 
ters under  the  sio-nature  of  an  ''  American  "  the  fact 
that  it  crrew  from  an  acorn  whose  oak  was  near  the 
grave  of  the  not-to-be-forgotten  Washington,  and 
which  was  sent  in  respect  to  the  Emperor  Nicholas. 
It  was  George  Sumner's  present.  It  is  of  thrifty 
growth.  I  was  curious  to  see  how  Washington's 
name  looked  spelled  in  Russian.  I  have  not  the  Rus- 
sian type,  but  the  nearest  approach  to  be  made  is 

00000000000000000000000000000000000 

o  o 

o  Ba7;ruHrmoHa  1  o 

o  o 

o  o 

00000000000000000000000000000000000 

I  asked  the  guide  to  spell  it.  "  Va-sha-ei-n-g- 
toft-af"  Pretty  well  sounded.  About  as  near  as  the 
Czar  is  to  Washinsfton  in  political  sentiment  and 
popular  freedom.  Still  the  oak  was  of  our  soil  and  as 
such  we  picked  some  of  the  thrifty  leaves  to  send  to 
friends  as  a  reminder  that  the  tree  of  Washington 
may  not  be  altogether  of  hopeless  growth  on  this 
Muscovite  soil. 


PErERnoFF.  285 

There  is  a  pleasant  pavilion  upon  ihis  island.  A 
blue  and  white  column  of  twisted  glass  gives  bright- 
ness to  the  picture.  There  are  some  rooms  of 
Pompeiian  style,  with  marble  vases  and  statues, 
and  a  beauteous  Psyche  and  a  butterfly.  There  are 
mosaics  everywhere.  Returning,  we  drop  into  a 
cottage  by  the  lake,  and  for  twenty-five  copecks  (or 
ten  cents)  get  a  jug  of  rich  milk.  It  was  refreshing, 
as  we  had  missed  our  dinner  amid  the  unusual  ex- 
citement of  this  day  in  Peterhoff.  But  more  is  in 
reserve.  Not  more  milk,  but  more  excitement.  We 
must  hie  to  the  Sampson  pavilion,  and  see  the  source 
of  these  waters— the  birthplace  of  these  playful  naiads 
of  royalty !  Far  off  it  shines  upon  a  distant  hill, 
with  an  acropolis  or  crowned  temple,  and  a  huge 
windmill  to  mark  it !  Passing  some  houses  in  the 
village,  and  two  pieces  of  straw  on  a  pole — a  sign  of 
the  number  of  regiments  quartered  in  the  town — and 
seeing  soldiers  practising  in  the  fields,  and  passing 
some  Finnish  girls  who  are  working  in  these  fields  and 
gardens,  and  who  do  not  disdain  to  chaffer  with  the 
guide,  we  reach,  through  meadows  of  sweet  hay,  the 
Babylon  temple !  We  ascend  to  its  balcony.  St. 
Petersburg  is  in  view  on  the  northeast.  One  ob- 
ject glitters  like  a  diamond-star,  burning  to  a  focus 
of  white  fire.  It  is  the  top  of  the  Admiralty  min- 
aret, under  which  dead  royalty  sleeps.  There  are 
hills  further  to  the  south,  but  not  high;  little  patches 
of  towns  are  on  the  plain.  On  the  north  and  east 
the  Gulf  of  Finland,  like  a  sheet  of  silver  broadens 
out,  with  Peterhoff  between,  at  our  feet.  This  is 
one  of  the  finest  views  in  all  Russia,  unless  it  be 
that  at  Novgorod  and  the  one  from  the  Kremlin  at 
Moscow.  To  fill  up  the  level  landscape,  black  and 
white    cattle   and   some  twenty   villages  are   in   the 


286  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

foreground;  patches  of  green  and  yellow,  grain  and 
oats  in  growth  and  just  harvested,  and  the  wooded 
park  all  about  the  palaces ! 

At  our  feet  is  the  model  mill,  to  which  we  must 
go,  out  of  respect  to  Peter  the  Great.  It  is  moved 
by  the  fosse,  made  by  the  water  here  at  its  source. 
It  is  a  cottage,  with  a  big  wheel,  and  is  both  a  house 
and  a  factory.  It  has  its  crockery  and  other  appli- 
ances as  a  pattern  of  the  housekeeping  for  a  miller's 
wife.  This  reminds  us  of  the  real  model  house  of 
the  Czar,  which  we  now  visit.  There  we  find  the 
peasant's  comfort,  as  the  ruler  would  have  it  in  the- 
ory, perhaps.  One  room  shows  the  plates  and  salt- 
cellars, out  of  carved  wood  such  as  are  used. in  re- 
ceiving the  Emperor  when  he  visits  the  towns  of  his 
realm.  Many  of  these  are  elaborately  carved  and 
rich,  and  betoken  the  opulence  of  the  city;  others 
are  plain,  and  indicate  a  peasant's  present  on  a 
visit  by  the  Czar  to  his  hut.  Many  old  costumes  and 
stoves  are  preserved.  In  fact,  the  model  house  is  a 
sort  of  rural  museum,  and  it  is  worth  a  better  study 
than  we  gave  it. 

What  other  objects  of  interest  Peterhoff  presents, 
such  as  the  newly  manufactured  "ruin"  in  the  heart 
of  the  forest,  and  the  lake,  with  its  variety  of  boats 
of  all  nations,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  dilate  upon. 
Altogether,  it  was  a  royal  day,  and,  being  such,  no 
Cossack  of  the  Don  called  a  halt  upon  its  enjoyment. 
Driving  to  a  restaurant,  where  the  elite  of  the  town — 
a  riLs  ill  7Lrbc — were  gathering  to  hear  music;  and, 
with  a  view— all  resplendent — of  the  gulf,  we  dine  al 
fresco,  and  finish  in  time  for  a  pleasant  sail,  to  St. 
Petersburg  under  a  rich  evening  glow,  and  conclude 
the  most  delightful  and  least  wearisome  day  of  our 
travel. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

FROM  ST.  TETERSBURG  TO  MOSCOW— THE  COUNTRY  BETWEEN 
—THE  CAPITAL  OF  THE  RUSSIAN  GREEK  CHURCH— JOHN 
THE  TERRIBLE. 

"When  ivith  the  e^icr  circling  years, 
Came  round  the  age  of  gold." 

WHATEVER  may  be  said  of  Russia,  nothing  but 
praise  can  be  awarded  to  her  railroads.  In  so 
far  as  they  run — and  they  run  further  even  into  the 
East  than  we  are  wont  to  beheve — and  in  so  far  as 
we  have  tried  them,  they  are  nearly  perfect.  We 
came  over  from  St.  Petersburg  to  this  ancient  and 
ecclesiastical  capital  of  Russia,  via  rail,  four  hundred 
and  fifty  miles.  We  left  at  7  p.  m.  and  were  here  at 
ten  next  morning,  and  slept  on  our  way  as  snugly — 
more  snugly  than  in  our  American  sleepers.  The 
guards  were  all  in  uniform,  and  we  had  no  official  in- 
terruptions, but  much  aid  from  them.  The  beds  are 
wide  seats,  and  are  at  right  angles  with  the  long  car, 
the  ceiling  of  which  is  high  and  well  ventilated.  Each 
sleeping  room  is  apart,  though  there  are  accommoda- 
tions for  families.  The  trains  are  not  fast,  but  sure; 
and  the  depots  are  substantial  and  elegant;  the  track 
well  ballasted  and  the  brido^es  safe  and  beautiful.  The 
meals  en  roitte  were  all  we  could  wish.  Perhaps  this 
is  an  exceptional  road.  One  feature  of  the  car  is,  that 
at  the  end  is  a  glass-windowed  apartment  for  smok- 
ing, recreation  and  observation. 


288  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

When  I  arose  at  six,  we  were  reaching  a  depot  in 
a  village,  and  I  took  the  Hberty  of  spending  the  time 
until  our  breakfast  at  Klin,  in  looking  out  upon  the 
landscape. 

The  country,  two-thirds  of  the  way  to  Moscow, 
is  prairie.  The  remaining  third  of  the  way  is  roll- 
ing, but  it  is  pretty  well  cultivated.  There  are  long 
reaches  where  the  fields  or  ranges  are  bare  of  all  but 
shrubbery  or  brush,  reminding  one  of  parts  of  Long 
Island.  I  was  surprised  at  the  breadth  of  grain  and 
oats  sown.  The  wheat  is  ready  for  the  sickle,  and  the 
sickle  in  the  hands  of  men  and  women  is  already  at  its 
work.  A  good  deal  of  grain  is  already  stacked  in 
little  shocks,  and  tied  in  pyramidal  form — to  shed  the 
rain.  Adding  these  reaped  fields  to  the  oblong  green 
and  golden  fields,  spreading  far  off  from  horizon  to 
horizon,  and  interwoven  like  tapestry  with  the  tra- 
cery of  pine  and  birch  forests,  here  and  there,  and 
with  the  meadows  full  of  haycocks  in  neat  rows,  or 
with  herds  of  cattle  and  horses,  and  you  have  a  land- 
scape in  harvest  time  in  middle  Russia.  There  are 
villages,  too,  plenty  of  them — old,  dingy-looking,  un- 
painted  and  tumbling  down.  They  are  made  of  logs 
and  thatched  with  straw.  They  do  not  indicate  im- 
provement; although  there  are  cars  on  the  track  for 
grain  and  cattle  by  the  hundred,  and  not  a  few  im- 
mense fiocks  of  sheep  and  herds  of  cattle  and  droves 
of  horses  in  fields  by  the  way,  which  do  indicate  much 
advancement  and  great  industry. 

We  notice  quite  a  large  number  of  animals, 
guarded  by  an  unpicturesque  person — like  a  Kabyle 
in  Algiers — in  a  flowing  sheepskin,  and  with  a 
hermit's  staff.     He  was  a  gentle  shepherd. 

There  are  more  or  less  of  fine  farm-houses,  as  the 
nucleus  of  larc^e  farmino^;  and  about  this  nucleus  are 


FROM   ST.   PETERSnURG    TO    MOSCOIV.  2S9 

trees  and  outhouses.  The  trees  are  of  bircli,  looking" 
so  natty,  clean  and  whitish,  with  their  thin  and  slim 
trunks,  that  it  was  a  delight  to  the  eye.  They  seem 
to  illumine  the  woods.  Occasionally  we  discover  some 
peasants  going  forth  to  the  fields,  the  women  in  short 
kirtles  and  the  men  in  heavy  coats — for  the  men  seem 
to  affect  heavy  and  long  dresses,  even  in  summer. 

As  we  approach  Moscow,  all  necks  are  craned  to 
get  the  first  glance  at  the  Oriental  city.  Soon  the 
vision  dawns.  I  had  read  when  a  boy  the  picture 
made  by  Walter  Scott,  in  his  "  Life  of  Napoleon  " — 
of  the  exquisite  and  charming  aspect  of  the  city,  as  it 
was  first  seen  by  the  French  soldiers  in  the  campaign 
of  1812.  How  it  shone,  and  has  shone  ever  since  to 
my  memory,  with  its  gilded  and  green  domes  and 
minarets,  its  many-hued  roofs  and  white  houses, 
its  alamedas  of  foliage  and  its  far-off  Oriental  mag- 
nificence ! 

Was  this  vision  realized?  Well,  I  must  confess 
that  a  rainy  day  and  a  sloppy  street  and  some  other 
matters  rather  disenchanted  me  of  the  vision  of  the 
morning  of  my  life.  Still  let  me  not  be  hasty.  I 
will  enter  a  motion  to  reconsider,  and  sleep  over  the 
matter  till  morning. 

The  motion  to  reconsider  is  not  laid  on  the 
table.  It  is  carried.  With  the  aid  of  a  bright, 
sunny  day,  and  the  American  Consul,  the  genial 
Mr.  Weber,  and  after  the  kindest  attentions  from 
our  Belgian  landlord  and  a  splendid  room  and 
dinner,  and  a  rousing,  or  rather  an  unroused  sleep, 
we  begin  examining  the  Kremlin,  within  its  sacred 
walls,  and  the  tout  ensemble  of  the  city  changes ! 
Nearly  a  thousand  years  of  traditions  and  veracities, 
with  the  architecture  to  match  and  confirm,  along 
with  the  childlike  credulity  with  which  we  are  learn 


290  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

ingr  to  observe,  and  some  slender  chance  views  of 
the  city,  we  are  ready  to  swear  that  our  disenchant- 
ment is  disenchanted ! 

Aiding  us  in  our  interest  in  this  city  of  romance 
has  been  the  spirit  of  Ivan  (John)  the  Terrible !  He 
is  to  Moscow  what  Peter  is  to  St.  Petersburg.  He 
is  omnipresent,  though  dead  these  several  hundred 
years.  When  he  was  not  olDserving  the  decapita- 
tion of  his  subjects  in  the  Bloody  Square,  he  was 
busy  praying  and  propagating  his  religion.  When 
we  drove  through  the  Bloody  Square,  we  ex 
pected  to  see  sanguinary  sights!  In  fact,  there  is 
remaining  here  a  stone  circle,  enclosed  by  stone 
walls  and  "  grilled  "  in  by  gates  of  iron.  This  John 
used  for  cuttino-  off  heads,  while  he  observed  the  cere- 
mony  from  a  green  tower  one  hundred  feet  above  and 
two  hundred  yards  off  upon  the  walls  of  the  Kremlin. 

The  place  now  has  an  innocent  look,  and  is  an 
eligible  place  for  a  band  of  music.  The  harmony 
of  this  thought  was  disturbed  by  a  cracked  bell, 
not  lying  exactly  upon  the  ground,  but  raised  on 
brick.  It  only  weighed  when  it  last  fell  in  a  fire,  in 
the  year  a.  d.  1737,  444,000  pounds.  It  is  decorated 
with  the  figures  of  the  Czar  Alexis  and  his  Empress, 
and  has  on  it  some  scrolls  and  sacred  writing. 

There  is  a  fraofment,  about  one  tenth  of  its  weight, 
lymg  near  by  on  the  ground.  There  are  some  fis- 
sures perceivable  in  the  bell.  There  is  a  bit  of 
romance  about  this  big  bell,  for  it  was  all  jewelled. 
It  is  said  that  the  ladies  of  Moscow  threw  their  gems 
of  silver  and  gold  into  the  incandescent  metal 
while  the  bell  was  being  prepared,  and  these  offer- 
ings of  beauty  led  to  the  fissures  and  weakness  in  the 
bell.  When  did  the  tender  sentiment  of  the  fair  sex 
fail   to   make   dancjerous   the   hii/h  soundinir — but  I 


FROM   ST.    rETERSBURG    TO    MOSCOW.  29 1 

cannot  gracefully  end  the  sentence.  Is  not  my  wife 
looking  over  my  shoulder? 

We  dismount  from  our  carriacre  to  examine  this 
enormous  bell.  The  clapper  requires  two  dozen 
men  to  handle  it.  Talk  of  political  rings  !  What  a 
ring  was  here,  my  countrymen !  Through  a  gate, 
and  near  by — within  these  walls — we  perceive  a  big 
gun  whose  calibre  would  not  be  full,  if  a  ring  of 
twenty-four  men  were  shoved  in — as  wadding. 

There  are  on  these  festive  ramparts  eight  hundred 
and  seventy-six  other  guns,  mostly  French  trophies, 
small  and  great.  But  they  showed  no  disposition  to 
go  off — so  we  went  into  the  Assumption  and  other 
churches  under  a  score  or  more  of  domes  and  towers 
of  gilded  copper.  Some  of  these  were  bell  towers, 
and  one  of  them  has  the  largest  active  bell  in  the 
world,  but  it  is  a  baby  beside  the  enormous  one  I 
have  noticed  as  disabled.  These  churches  are  more 
or  less  faded,  and  the  pictures  on  their  exterior  do 
not  show  very  nicely,  although  even  in  their  deca- 
dence they  remind  one  of  the  gay  mosques  of  Mos- 
lem lands. 

I  thought  we  had  escaped  John  the  Terrible;  but 
our  guide  points  at  the  steps  upon  which  he  sat  when 
he  ran  his  cane  into  the  foot  of  a  messenger  of  ill 
tidings,  and  killed  him  with  the  same  staff  with 
which  he  killed  his  own  son;  so  that  when  the  Em- 
peror was  here  last  week  the  sanguinary  memory 
was  continued  by  having  a  red  carpet  put  down  on 
those  steps — for  the  Czar !  One  would  think  that 
these  tragedies  and  the  memory  of  them  would  not 
be  encouraged  in  Russia  at  the  present  time. 

We  rest  a  while  upon  the  battlement,  overlooking 
the  River  Moskva,  which  makes  a  letter  S,  within 
whose  curves  and  to  the  south  lies  the  smaller  part 


292  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

of  the  city.  It  gave  us  a  grand  prospect.  You 
may  think  Brooklyn  a  city  of  churches.  It  has  a 
couple  of  score  or  so;  but  Moscow  has  three  hundred 
and  eighty-five !  I  counted  from  this  Kremlin  height 
on  the  south  one  hundred  and  eighty  alone !  Most 
of  them,  like  the  roofs  of  the  city,  are  painted  green 
on  their  domes  and  minarets. 

"  See  yonder,"  says  the  guide;  "  there  are  the 
Sparrow  Hills,  from  which  Napoleon  viewed  the 
city,  in  all  its  sun-lit  glory,  before  it  roared  and 
cracked  in  the  fiery  furnace  of  patriotic  devotion ! 
And  that  is  the  gate — that  red  one,  with  the  tower 
above  it — where  he  entered  from  the  west  to  make 
this,  his  ill-starred  capture.  Those  woods  on  the 
elevation  are  the  highest  about  this  city;  and  it  is 
from  that  point  that  the  Napoleonic  soul  glowed  over 
the  prospect  of  spoliation,  to  which  these  hundreds  of 
silver  and  orold  shrines  of  the  Eastern  Church  were 
subjected." 

Moscow  is  a  city  which  has  walls  within  it.  There 
is  a  sort  of  Chinese  quarter,  which  is  walled;  but  there 
are  no  Chinese  there.  They  have  "gone,"  if  they 
ever  were  here.  Within  this  quarter  are  plenty  of 
shops.  The  Oriental  bazaar  is  a  part  of  this  Oriental 
place;  but  the  Kremlin,  with  its  twisted  Byzantine 
architecture  and  its  many-hued  domes,  is  a  place  by 
itself.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  turreted  wall,  with  tow- 
ers of  screen  at  intervals,  and  the  river  boundino-  it  on 
the  south.  It  has  been  destroyed  often,  and  as  often 
rebuilt.  It  has  within  it  not  only  the  religious  but 
the  dynastic  buildings,  and  on  a  fair  day  and  with  its 
large  plaza  clean  and  its  colossal  monument,  looks 
quite  imposing  as  well  as  quaint.  Often  and  often 
have  its  besiegers  sought  to  gain  entrance  within 
this  walled  citadel,  and  only  once  or  twice  has  there 


FROM   ST.   PETERSBURG    TO    MO  SCO  IV.  293 

been  success.  The  gates,  too,  have  a  sacred  charac- 
ter. Indeed,  Moscow  is  a  sainted  city.  If  there 
were  nothing"  else  to  sanctify  it,  the  patriotic  holo- 
caust caused  by  the  French  invasion  would  do  it. 
What  a  victory  the  Gaul  had!  But  of  his  45o,ooo 
troops,  400,000  were  left  upon  the  plains  of  Russia. 
What  a  defeat!  Dazzling,  bewildering,  wonderful 
Moscow!  Marvellous  in  its  building  and  rebuilding, 
and  more  marvellous  in  its  vicissitudes ! 

The  tour  through  these  various  churches,  with 
their  victorious  flags  and  gifts  of  precious  stones; 
their  tombs  of  the  Romanoff  Kings  until  the  time 
of  Peter  the  Great,  and  their  chapels  and  altars  of 
silver,  all  gilded,  is  the  work  of  a  week.  We  essay 
it  in  two  days.  One  impression  follows.  It  would 
seem  that  gold  was  the  prevailing  aesthetic  taste 
when  they  were  built,  as  every  available  space  not 
dedicated  to  paintings  is  gilded.  These  were  the 
days  by  "  Prophet  bards  foretold  " — the  golden  age. 

But  they  did  not  give  the  era  of  peace;  for  these 
years  of  golden  decoration  were  full  of  conflict,  which 
no  anofel  choir  celebrated  as  the  dawn  of  the  millen- 
nium.  To  these  old  altars  come  pilgrims  from  all 
Russia — descendants  of  the  ancient  Scythians  and 
the  recent  Tartars.  I  noticed  three  poorly-clad, 
naked-footed  females  drop  their  sacks  and  tin  cups 
in  the  church  of  St.  Basil,  and  deliberately  make  the 
religious  round,  kissing  every  image  on  their  way. 
It  was  the  work  of  a  whole  day.  We  met  them  at 
every  turn,  making  their  genuflexions,  their  heads 
touching  the  stone  pavement  and  their  crossing  being 
devotedly  incessant.  The  French  are  said  to  have 
taken  away  five  tons  of  this  sacred  silver  from  Mos- 
cow and  its  churches,  yet  how  much  remains ! 

Did  we  leave  Moscow  without  a  full  view  of  the 


294  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

city  from  the  tower  of  bells,  where  some  thirty-one 
of  these  favorites  are  hunor-  to  make  their  sacred  fete 
days  more  sacred  ?  We  had  a  bright  day  yester- 
day, and  improved  it  from  the  Bell  Tower.  Such 
a  vision  cannot  be  had  from  any  other  place !  It 
is  surrounded  by  the  green  hills  all  round  the 
splendid  circle,  within  which  live  nearly  a  million 
souls.  What  gives  such  attraction  to  this  view  is 
the  many  colors  of  the  roofs  and  the  domes  and 
spires.  Some  few  are  of  silver,  notably  that  of 
the  church  of  the  Catholics.  It  crhstens  like  a 
temple  apart  from  the  rest;  and  so  it  is.  Below 
us,  from  the  tall  tower  of  the  bells,  are  the  courts 
and  palace  where  a  dynasty  of  many  hundred  years 
has  been  nurtured  or  murdered — or  at  least  gone ! 

A  new  and  a  better  order  prevails  in  Russia  now. 
Much  as  it  might  be  improved — one  thing  is  to  be 
said,  that  she  has  local  legislatures,  or  communes  of 
her  own  for  her  local,  land  and  other  affairs,  with 
their  tax  and  other  questions  ever  rising  for  home- 
rule  settlement.  Wallace,  in  his  volume  on  Russia, 
thus  descrii3es  this  legislature : 

"  The  zemstro  is  a  kind  of  local  administration 
which  supplements  the  action  of  the  rural  communes 
and  takes  cognizance  of  those  higher  public  wants 
which  individual  communes  cannot  possibly  satisfy. 
Its  principal  duties  are  to  keep  the  roads  and  bridges 
in  proper  repair,  to  provide  means  of  conveyance  for 
the  rural  police  and  other  officials,  to  elect  the  jus- 
tices of  peace,  to  look  after  primary  education  and 
sanitary  affairs,  to  watch  the  state  of  the  crops  and 
take  measures  against  approaching  famine,  and  in 
short  to  undertake,  within  certain  clearly-defined  lim- 
its, whatever  seems  likely  to  increase  the  material  and 
moral  well-being  of  the  population.     In  form  the  in- 


ST.    basil's    church,     MOSCOW, 


FROM   ST.    PETERSBURG    TO    MOSCOW.  295 

stitution  is  parliamentary — that  is  to  say,  it  consists 
of  an  assembly  of  deputies  which  meets  at  least  once 
a  year,  and  of  a  permanent  executive  bureau  elected 
by  the  assembly  from  amon^-  its  members.  If  the 
assembly  be  re^'arded  as  a  local  parliament,  the  bu- 
reau corresponds  to  the  ministry.  .  .  .  Once  every 
three  years  the  deputies  are  elected  in  certain  fixed 
proportions  by  the  landed  proprietors,  the  rural  com- 
munes and  the  munici[)al  cor|)orations.  Every  prov- 
ince (guberniya)  and  each  of  the  districts  (uyezdi) 
into  which  the  province  is  subdivided,  has  such  an 
asseml^ly  and  such  a  bureau." 

"  The  reader  may  perhaps  imagine  that  the  zem- 
stro  has,  like  the  rural  commune,  growai  up  slowly  in 
the  course  of  centuries,  and  is  in  its  present  form  a 
remnant  of  ancient  liberties  which  has  successfully 
resisted  the  centralizing  tendencies  of  the  autocratic 
power.  In  reality  it  is  nothing  of  the  sort.  It  is  a 
modern  institution,  created  by  the  autocratic  power 
about  ten  years  ago,  and  represents  the  most  recent 
attempt  to  lighten  the  duties  and  correct  the  abuses 
of  the  imperial  administration  by  means  of  local  self- 
government." 

Mr.  Wallace  says  that  the  Russians  are  indifferent 
in  these  councils  and  do  not  care  to  do  more  than 
sleep,  while  a  few  talk  and  manage.  There  is  one 
remedy  for  that — education.  This  Russia  greatly 
needs,  for  her  masses.  But  the  time  is  advancing 
for  all  people,  and  Russia  is  not  altogether  exceptional. 

By  a  glance  at  the  map  I  find  that  we  are  further 
East  by  many  degrees  than  Constantinople,  and  in- 
stead of  going  thither  via  Vienna  and  the  Danube, 
we  propose  to  go  via  Odessa  and  the  Black  Sea. 
We  leave  to-day,  and  so  next  Sunday  we  will  be 
within  the  Sublime  Porte — going  in  by  the  back  door 
and  not  by  the  front  door,  as  we  expected. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN    THE    HEART    OF   CATHEDRALS    AND    RELICS    OF    MOS- 
COW.—FAIRS  AND  FIGHTING  GROUNDS. 

"To  see  clearly,  is  poetry,  prophecy,  and  religion,  all  in  one." 

— RUSKIN. 

IT  may  not  be  the  usual  route  "up  to  Jerusa- 
lem "  which  we  have  taken,  but  it  makes  up  in 
interest  what  it  wants  in  directness.  It  is  said,  in 
morals  and  mathematics,  that  the  best  and  short- 
est way  between  two  points  is  the  right  line  ;  but 
is  that  said  of  touring  ?  "  A  tour  "  means  a  voyage 
"  round,"  and  we  have  come  via  France,  Belgium, 
Holland,  Denmark,  Norway,  Sweden,  and  Russia, 
thus  far  C7i  I'oiite  to  Jerusalem  !  The  city  of  David 
and  the  capital  of  Judea,  via  the  Arctic  Ocean  ; 
from  the  pine  to  the  palm  ;  from  the  Pole  to  the 
pyramids  ;  via  Palestine  ! 

How  much  to  remind  us  of  the  Arctics  and  the 
home  of  Saviour,  prophet,  and  saint,  is  to  be  found 
here  in  Moscow,  midway  between  the  two  locali- 
ties !  Was  there  ever  such  an  assembly  of  eccle- 
siastical memories  as  Moscow  offers  ?  Its  five  hun- 
dred churches  faintly  illustrate,  within  and  without, 
this  constant  devotion  of  these  Greek  Christians. 
It  is  not  for  me  to  measure  the  sincerity  of  any 
sect,  much  less  to  weigh  a  great  hierarchy  by  the 
ingots  of  silver  and  tons  of  gold,  or  by  the  richness 
of  clerical  apparel,  or  parures  of  gems,  which  adorn 

2g6 


CATHEDRALS  OF  iMOSCOW. 


'■91 


religious  shrines,  pictures,  and  temples.  If  the 
Graeco-Russian  Church  is  to  be  tested  by  its  out- 
ward splendors  and  ceremonies,  in  so  far  as  we 
have  seen  it  in  this  land,  then  its  devotion  is  be- 
yond all  competition,  if  not  praise.  But  this  wealth 
of  outer  show  does  not  tell  the  inner  life.  It  is 
the  shell — the  synibol  only. 

The  cathedrals  within  the  court-yard  of  the 
Kremlin  are  shown  to  gaping  peasants,  and,  I  may 
add,  tourists,  who  gaze  with  amazement  upon  the 
thrones  and  crowns,  cradles  and  sepulchres  of 
patriarchs  and  kings. 

We  visited  the  Assumption  and  St.  Michael  Ca- 
thedrals, which  have  retained,  in  spite  of  war  and 
fire,  their  early  form  and  glory.  They  fairly  burst 
with  ancestral  (jlories.  Here  Czars  were  crowned 
and  primates  elected.  Here  princes  swore  fealty 
to  the  throne,  and  here  are  shown  jewels  worth 
whole  satrapies,  estimated  by  mercenary  men  at 
$250,000.  In  the  first-nam.ed  church  is  shown  the 
tomb  of  a  patriarch.  Saint  Philip,  murdered  by 
"  John  the  Terrible,"  and  a  portion  of  his  forehead 
over  the  silver  tomb  is  exhibited.  It  is  kissed  fer- 
vently by  hundreds  every  day.  The  Emperor  on 
his  visit  here  last  week,  among  his  few  felicities,  I 
suppose,  kissed  this  sacred  forehead.  There  are 
five  domes  over  this  Church  of  the  Assumption. 
Next  year  the  present  Czar,  after  much  fasting  and 
seclusion,  is  to  have  his  coronation  in  this  holiest 
of  holy  churches.  He  places  his  crown  on  his  own 
head,  being  an  autocrat ;  and  then  that  of  the  Em- 
press upon  her  head,  coming  from  the  inner  ady- 
tum of  the  temple,  where  he  has  partaken  of  the 
communion.  One  may  see  from  this  why  it  is  that 
the  religion  of   Russia  is  so  closely  interlaced  with 


298  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

its  autocracy.  An  old  throne  is  shown  to  us  in 
this  church  over  nine  hundred  years  old.  Here, 
too,  is  a  figure  of  Mount  Sinai  in  solid  gold  and 
silver,  and  an  immense  Bible,  which  takes  two  men 
to  carry.  It  was  given,  gems  and  all,  by  the  mother 
of  Peter  the  Great.  The  number  and  value  of 
the  manuscripts,  not  to  speak  of  the  relics  here 
preserved,  stagger  belief  ;  but  assuredly  no  one  can 
doubt  that  this  is  the  Kremlin,  and  that  these  are 
its  surviving  glories.  Nor  can  any  one  doubt — 
unless  one  has  the  "  historic  doubts  concerning 
Napoleon,"  suggested  by  Archbishop  Whately's 
tractate — that  these  very  buildings  were  used  by 
Napoleon  and  his  army,  as  well  as  abused.  This 
chapel  was  his  stable,  that  church  a  hospital,  and 
the  other  a  warehouse.  No  one  can  doubt,  either, 
that  under  that  splendid  enamel  and  gold,  studded 
with  gems,  is  an  illuminated  edition,  all  genuine,  of 
the  gospels  of  a.  d.  1125.  These  relics  are  too 
precious  to  be — counterfeit. 

In  the  course  of  a  morning  we  pass  through  other 
sacred  edifices,  equally  historic  and  preserving  an- 
cient and  authentic  records  of  the  days  of  the  early 
Christian  church,  and  each  having  a  special  func- 
tion in  this  hierarchy.  Within  and  without  this 
sacred,  inclosure,  one  sees  that,  at  least,  the  great 
mass  of  the  people  have  absolute  credence  in  these 
rare  and  rich  treasures.  Who  shall  deny  them 
this  solace  ?  If  one  believe  that  the  emblem  of 
salvation  is  of  ivory,  when  it  is  only  of  wood,  who 
shall  deny  the  devotee  the  consolation  ? 

As  we  wander  amidst  these  mazes  of  pictured 
gold  and  under  lofty  arches,  the  slant  beams  of 
the  sun  in  great  bars,  flash  against  the  gold  and 
jewels,  and  the  motes,  like  human  souls,  move  in 


CATHEDRALS  OF  MOSCOW.  299 

tlic  lustre,  aimless,  it  would  seem,  and  yet  illu- 
mined, poor  atomies,  by  this  precious  yet  dim 
religious  light. 

I  have  said  that  the  sacerdotal  and  political  in 
Russia  were  one,  but  it  has  not  become  so  alto- 
gether, without  a  protest ;  nor  is  the  unity  perfect. 
Still,  in  looking  over  the  immense  palace  within 
the  Kremlin  walls,  the  former  residence  of  the 
Czars— built  about  the  time  Columbus  discovered 
our  continent — there  is  much  to  recall  the  duplex 
association.  Halls,  drawing-room,  bedrooms,  even 
bath-rooms,  galleries,  and  courts,  have  their  sacred 
memories,  and  chapels,  showing  that  this  Russian 
dynasty,  and  the  one  which  preceded  it,  had  been 
built  upon  the  petrifaction  of  the  human  heart,  as 
well  as  upon  its  sanctification  through  the  elements 
and  promises  of  the  unseen  world.  In  spite  of  fire 
and  carnage,  these  relics  of  the  rulers  of  Russia 
make  a  splendid  show,  which  the  people  rush  in 
crowds  to  see.  At  every  turn  we  perceive  a  long 
line  of  Russians,  following  a  guide,  who  shows  the 
treasures  of  the  past  with  a  hurried  rhetoric  quite 
equal  to  that  of  the  warder  of  the  London  Tower. 
Here  are  galleries  where  are  seen  standards  cap- 
tured in  battle  from  Tartars  and  Swedes,  corona- 
tion and  other  robes  In  glass  cases  by  the  dozen  ; 
crowns  with  mounted  gems  of  all  sizes  and  values  ; 
presents  from  khan  and  king,  shah  and  emperor  ; 
aye,  even  the  chair  of  the  mad  Charles  XH.,  of 
Sweden,  in  which  he  was  borne  from  the  luckless 
field  of  Pultowa,  and  the  flags  given  by  Alexander 
I.  to  the  Polish  army,  which,  the  inscription  says, 
they  dishonored  by  rebellion  ;  and  here  also  is  the 
constitution  accorded  by  him  to  the  Poles  !  This 
written    benefaction — this    Polish    constitution — is 


200  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

shown,  and  in  no  satirical  or  ironical  mood  it  is 
here  seen,  in  a  black  box,  over  a  portrait  of  the 
imperial  benefactor  ! 

It  is  time,  after  such  an  exhibition,  for  pure  air. 
So  we  dash  out  and  up — up  again  into  the  Tower 
of  Bells.  Bells  on  bells  arise  in  tower  on  tower, 
thirty-one  in  all,  not  counting  the  big  one  on  the 
ground,  cracked  and  useless.  I  cannot  estimate  the 
weight  of  each  or  all  of  these  bells,  but  one  of  the 
clappers  weighed  4,400  pounds  !  Inside  these  me- 
tallic monsters  are  chalked  the  names  of  visitors. 
One  would  think  that  Russia  had  run  out  of  bell- 
metal,  or  that  the  article  was  scarce,  for  two  of 
these  big  bells  are  of  silver,  and  the  biggest  one, 
which  lies  cracked  and  fragmentary  on  the  ground, 
is  the  largest  of  all,  or  larger  than  all  put  together. 
They  are  symbols  of  the  religious  devotion,  of 
which  Moscow  is  the  crreat  nerve-centre  of  the 
empire. 

When  all  these  bells,  led  by  the  dethroned  mon- 
arch, were  tintinnabulating  together,  whether  mer- 
rily and  euphoniously  for  a  wedding ;  in  terrific 
alarm,  with  clang  and  clash,  for  fire,  or  in  a  solemn 
melody  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  when  ghouls  are 
pulling  at  the  rope, — the  rolling  and  moaning  and 
groaning,  and  sinking  and  swelling  and  clanging 
must  have  made  Moscow  mad !  Edgar  Poe  heard 
their  Runic  rhyme,  and  set  them  tolling  in  his 
verse. 

From  this  tower,  whose  walls  are  eight  feet 
thick,  we  have  an  observatory  of  all  the  wondrous 
scenery  in  and  around  this  marvellous  Moscow. 
Turning  to  the  west  are  the  Sparrow  Hills,  whence 
the  cry  of  the  French  went  up,  "  Moscow  !  Mos- 
cow ! "  as  they  gloated  over  the  expected  capture 


CATHEDRALS    OF    ^^OSCOW. 


301 


and  the  approacliino-  loot.  Winding  around  and 
away  into  the  distance  is  the  pleasant  river  beneath 
the  Kremlin  walls.  T^ar  away  it  winds,  beyond  our 
ken,  till  it  joins  the  Oka  and  the  Volga,  to  mingle 
its  waters  with  the  Caspian  Sea.  The  gilt  and 
silver  domes,  the  crosses  above  them,  and  the 
eagles  on  the  s])ires  dazzle  and  blind  the  eye, 
which  seeks  relief  in  the  long  yellow  palaces  for 
soldiers  and  foundlings,  and  the  bridges  which 
span  the  Moscow  stream.  A  few  flags  flutter  in 
the  breezy  sky,  double-eagled  as  they  fly,  while  the 
green  roofs  and  green  horizon  of  the  hills  beyond 
make  up  and  fill  in  a  circlet  of  artificial  and  natural 
beauty  which  no  other  city  or  prospect  in  the  wide 
world  can  parallel. 

There  may  be  a  surfeit  even  of  external  religion, 
such  as  these  structural  glories  symbolize.  It  is  a 
relief  to  read  the  sacred  script  of  Nature,  in  whose 
sylvan  temples,  and  without  bent  knee  or  anthem, 
in  the  vast  cathedral  of  the  woods,  the  silences  may 
become  choral  and  the  soul  seek  its  Source  of  Light 
and  Love,  without  the  intervention  of  voices  and 
imagery. 

Let  us  to  the  hills  beyond.  Can  we  not  visit  the 
heights,  and  renew,  at  least,  the  emotions  of  the 
army  of  invasion  ?  Yes.  Can  we  not  recall  the 
glittering  array  of  that  immense  Gallic  and  Ger- 
man host,  and  feel  the  throbbing  pulse  of  that  king- 
compelling  conqueror  in  his  pride  ?  Here,  in  the 
land  of  the  Muscovite  and  Tartar — a  land  where 
war  seems  to  be  the  natural  condition  of  men  or 
dynasties ;  where  intrigues  have  supplemented  force 
in  endless  succession,  regardless  of  human  weal  or 
woe — here,  in  those  September  days,  sixty-nme 
years  ago,  came  into  this  land  of  battles  the  great 


302  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

Corsican.  In  the  heat  of  summer  he  had  pushed 
from  the  Niemen  to  Wihia — cunnlne  Russian 
Fabiuses  discreetly  drawing  on  the  victor  of  Aus- 
terhtz.  The  wary  De  Tolly  at  length  feels  the 
presence,  very  near,  of  this  victorious  invader,  for 
he  is  at  Smolensk.  Once  more  the  Fabian  policy. 
At  length  the  impatient  Emperor  Alexander  tires 
of  Fabius,  but  he  rues  the  day  of  Borodino  as  a 
consequence.  The  French,  too,  were  weary  of 
the  long  struggle  ;  and  as  despair  was  about  set- 
tling upon  their  ranks  the  golden  domes  and  daz- 
zling minarets,  now  shining  in  this  August  sun, 
catch  their  eye  from  this  hill  of  vantage  !  What 
followed,  history  records.  What  the  Nemesis  was 
is  truly  told  in  the  terrible  ravage  of  palace  and 
temple,  monuments  and  miracles  of  art,  cradles, 
tombs,  homes,  and  lives — all  by  one  great  besom 
swept  into  the  abyss  of  destruction  and  revenge. 

Let  us  look  above  us — as  we  chanofe  our  excur- 
sion  to  the  road  north.  It  is  a  monument  of  victory 
under  which  we  ride — Russian  victory  over  the 
conqueror !  Black  as  a  funeral  hearse  it  spans  the 
road  to  the  summer  palace.  "What  is  it?"  you 
ask.  An  arch  of  triumph  made  out  of  the  charred 
remains  of  this  Moscow  of  1812 — the  compacted 
cinders  of  the  great  self-immolation  !  Beyond  it  is 
a  vast  plain,  typical  of  Russia ;  for  it  is  covered 
with  tents,  and  in  them  bivouac  fifty  thousand 
troops — the  police  of  Moscow.  Over  a  good  turn- 
pike we  drive  for  some  miles  past  the  gas-lamps 
and  long-haired  Russians,  passing  the  heavy  carts 
and  curious  omnibuses,  until  we  perceive  a  huge 
brick  edifice  within  circular  walls.  Let  us  drive 
through  its  park,  called  Petrofski.  It  is  not  old  ; 
for  the  year  wdiich  gave  our  colonies  the  battle  of 


CATHEDRALS  OF  MOSCOW. 


303 


Lexington — whose  shot  was  "heard  round  the 
world  " — saw  this  palace  arise  amidst  these  grounds 
of  loveliness.  The  Emperor  sometimes  visits  it, 
and,  in  safer  times,  he  used  to  hold  reviews  on  the 
plain  in  front.  It  was  here  that  Napoleon  retired 
when  the  fire  of  the  burning  city  made  the  Krem- 
lin too  hot  for  him  to  hold  his  court  and  council. 

A  rain  comes  on.  We  take  refuge  in  the  fa- 
mous Sax's  Garden,  in  the  park,  where  one  may 
have  the  best  of  dinners  while  listening  to  the  gypsy 
sones  in  the  Russian  tonfjue,  and  seeing^  their 
dance,  a  dance  which  has,  like  themselves,  no  na- 
tionality ! 

There  are  many  excursions  about  Moscow  which 
a  tourist  is  bound  to  make,  besides  the  theatres, 
museums,  cafes,  and  other  objects  of  mere  local 
and  social  interest.  The  excursion  to  which  we 
had  solemnly  dedicated  ourselves  was  to  the  fair  of 
Nijni-Novgorod.  It  had  just  opened.  The  Czar 
had  been  there  to  dedicate  it.  This  city  of  fairs  is 
not  far  from  the  Asiatic  line,  and  is  only  one  night's 
ride  from  Moscow,  for  there  is  now  a  railroad 
thither.  Did  we  go  to  the  fair?  No;  we  sent 
ambassadors.  Four  young  Americans — two  from 
Massachusetts  and  two  from  the  West — started  out 
and  were  to  report.  Did  they  see  the  road  lined 
with  marvels?  No  ;  it  was  a  dead,  level  plain,  and 
not  as  interesting,  as  a  wheat  and  cattle  producer, 
as  the  land  between  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow. 
And  the  city  ?  They  tried  no  hotels,  though  they  tar- 
ried in  the  town  all  day,  leaving  their  traps  at  the 
station,  and  went  out  disgusted  at  nightfall  on  the 
train.  Did  they  see  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
Asiatics,  and  their  temples  of  worship,  and  marts 
of  trade  ?     Did  they  make  the  report  which  only  a 


304 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


few  years  ago  every  visitor  made — of  barracks  and 
Cossacks,  mosques,  pagodas,  idols,  and  idol-break- 
ers, dignified  Turks  and  long- cued  Celestials, 
Hindoos  of  hio-h  caste  and  of  low  de^rree,  and  the 
rivers  Volga  and  Oka  in  vvnld  conjunction  from  the 
heart  of  Russia,  and  the  Kama  from  the  Ural 
Mountains,  all  alive  with  barges  and  boats  and  their 
denizens,  and  the  heights  above  the  old  town,  with 
the  magnificent  view  over  the  boundless  prospect  ? 
Yes,  somewhat  ;  they  viewed  the  heights,  the  for- 
tress, and  an  immense  assemblage,  with  their  trades 
in  active  chaffer.  But  the  great  fair  itself,  and  its 
ceremonies,  together  with  its  varied  and  manifold 
commerce,  its  piles  of  tea  and  cases  of  diamonds, 
its  robes  and  shawls,  its  furs  and  gear  for  man  and 
horse,  its  fair,  as  we  have  heard  of  it  in  Western 
climes,  from  tranced  and  poetic  pens,  is  now  obso- 
lete. Steam  and  rail,  telegraph  and  progress,  have 
made  Novgorod  and  its  fair  almost  as  venerable  as 
its  namesake  of  the  earlier  centuries.  Greek  and 
Persian,  Asiatic  and  European,  are  there,  but  in  a 
very  unromantic  way,  selling  and  buying,  amid  rain 
and  mud,  and  not  in  colored  booths,  like  the  fabled 
fair  of  other  days  and  of  the  Orient. 

When  our  committee  returned  we  asked  :  "  Did 
you  see  the  Russian  in  sheepskin,  haggling  with 
the  Persian  in  his  gaudy  robes  ?  Did  you  see  the 
baggy-breeched  Ottoman,  in  manifold  turban,  talk- 
ing Turkish  to  the  European,  in  beard,  waistcoat, 
and  trousers  of  formal  cut  ?  Were  Tartars  and 
Circassians  dickering  about  furs  and  wools,  arms 
and  jewels,  with  Koords,  Turcomans,  Arabians, 
Chinese,  Scythians,  Greeks,  bond  and  free  ?  Above 
all,  did  you  see  the  mujik,  in  jack-boots,  blue  panta- 
loons, and  red  shirt  ?  " 


CATHEDRALS  OF  MOSCOW. 


305 


"Ah!"  exclaimed  our  committee,  "the  mujik 
was  everywhere,  the  rest  nowhere  ;  he,  the  type  of 
Russia,  whose  hair  is  dirty-liued  and  racy  of  the 
soil — long,  too,  and  which  he  never  combs,  but 
which  he  swishes  out  at  monthly  intervals,  as  a 
horse  swishes  his  tail — he  was  there,  the  pre-emi- 
nent genius  of  new  Nijni-Novgorod  !  " 

This  was  true,  though  unromantic. 

Our  committee  of  four,  therefore,  reported  that 
the  ride  of  two  nights  and  the  observation  of  one 
day  were  not  compensatory.  We,  therefore,  gave 
up  Novgorod,  and,  with  the  advice  and  aid  of  our 
considerate  Consul  at  Moscow,  Mr.  Weber,  we 
prepared  to  move  from  Moscow  toward  the  sweet 
South,  where  the  salt  wind  of  the  Euxine  might 
give  its  salubrity.  Then  the  question  arose,  Shall 
we  go  to  the  Crimea  or  to  the  Caucasus  }  To  either 
of  these  points  there  is  railroad  accommodation. 
Be  it  known,  that  it  is  easier  to  go  to  Sevastopol 
and  Kertch — the  one  to  see  the  scenes  of  modern 
valor,  and  the  other  to  observe  the  tombs  of  old 
Grecian  civilization — than  to  Odessa  itself.  Nor 
is  it  difficult  to  go  to  the  interior  of  the  Caucasus, 
and  to  its  capital,  for  the  railroad  is  on  its  winding 
way  through  the  possessions  of  the  Russian.  From 
Moscow,  due  south,  it  runs  to  Kharkof  ;  thence 
south-west,  and  through  the  land  of  the  Mennon- 
ites — now  being  depopulated  by  emigration  to 
America — to  Taganrog,  at  the  north-west  point  on 
the  Sea  of  Azof,  and  from  thence  south-west,  until 
its  last  station  on  the  north  side  of  the  ereat  chain 
of  Caucasus  is  found  at  Vladikavkas,  under  the 
shadow  or  snows  of  Mount  Kasbak  !  This  we  con- 
sidered quite  a  feasible  route  ;  but  if  we  had  gone 
there — could   we    have   hesitated   at   leaping    the 


2o6  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

mountain  chain,  where  with  some  precaution,  and 
after  a  httle  more  effort,  the  Persian  clime  of 
beauty  and  the  reahii  of  rarest  romance  and  his- 
tory, would  make  a  fit  ending  of  an  oriental  tour  ? 
But  we  hesitated,  owing  to  some  temporary 
illness,  and,  amid  many  regretful  farewells,  we 
found  ourselves,  minus  a  guide,  and  in  a  land 
whose  language  was  unknown,  on  the  way  toward 
Odessa. 

This  is  no  small  journey  even  by  rail,  it  being 
over  one  thousand  miles  ;  but  it  is  en  route  to  Jeru- 
salem, and  it  goes  by  way  of  Constantinople. 

I  need  not  say  that  there  was,  and  is,  a  feeling 
of  relief  quite  ineffable,  in  even  a  tendency  toward 
Turkey  and  out  of  Russia.  Why  we  have  had  a 
perpetual  disquietude  since  w^e  stepped  on  Russian 
soil,  it  is  hard  to  define.  There  is  an  unrest  and 
anxiety  here,  much  more  serious  than  mere  postal 
irregularities.  It  may  be  better  expressed,  and  with 
reasons,  when  I  find  the  land  of  the  "  cypress  and 
myrtle  "  within  thy  precincts,  O  Stamboul ! 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE  EASTERN  CHURCH— ITS  ARCHITECTURAL  GRANDEURS 
IN  RUSSIA. 

IVe  hate  not  the  relii!;ion  of  bare  7i/a//s, 

JVe  scorn  not  the  Catliedrats  pomp  of  prayer. 

For  sweet  are  all  our  Father's  festivals, 

If  co7t trite  hearts  the  heavenly  banquet  share. 

In  field  or  temple,  God  is  everywhere. 

— Ebenezer  Elliott. 

THE  Greek  Church  has  in  its  communion  nearly- 
all  of  the  people  of  Russia,  not  to  speak  of 
Greece  and  Turkey.  It  comprehends  seventy  mill- 
ions. No  other  church,  except  that  of  Rome, 
equals  it  in  the  number  of  its  worshipers.  I  need 
not  narrate  its  history  to  illustrate  the  observances 
which  are  here  in  Russia  so  prevalent.  It  had  its 
four  patriarchs  in  the  Orient  and  another  at  Mos- 
cow ;  but  Peter  the  Great,  who  did  everything 
here,  from  the  making  of  a  chest  or  a  ship  to  the 
making  of  a  war  or  the  unmaking;  of  a  religious  or 
royal  dynasty,  suppressed  the  Moscow  patriarch, 
and  the  church  government  is  now  in  the  hands 
of  a  synod  of  bishops.  About  the  year  1054  the 
schism  occurred  between  the  Eastern  and  Western 
Churches.  The  Crusades  embittered  the  division 
by  some  excesses  in  the  East,  which,  after  many 
centuries,  culminated  in  a  fight  over  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  out  of  which  grew  the  Crimean  War. 
The  Lutheran,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  Church  of 

307 


3o8 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


England  have  sought  more  or  less  of  unity  with 
the  Greek  Church  ;  but  all  efforts  in  that  direction 
failed.  The  Greek  Church  stands  isolated ;  yet 
the  affections  of  a  vast  population  centre  around 
it.  Its  monasteries  in  the  East  and  its  churches  in 
the  West,  as  these  in  Russia,  are  wonderful  in  their 
kind. 

The  customs  and  rites  of  the  Greek  religionists 
differ  greatly  from  those  of  other  sects.  There  is 
still  to  be  seen  the  women's  separate  gallery  in  the 
churches,  to  keep  up  the  ancient  division  of  the 
sexes  ;  and  yet  the  priests  in  the  Greek  Church  may 
marry,  must  marry.  No  images  are  allowed  in  the 
Greek  churches,  but  at  every  turn  we  see  pictures  ; 
sometimes  hidden,  all  but  the  face,  beneath  silver 
and  gold  robes.  But,  say  what  we  will  of  this  Church, 
it  is  ancient,  and  its  devotees  are  seemingly  very  de- 
vout. I  have  been  inside  of  twenty  of  the  "  parish 
churches"  of  the  city  of  St.  Petersburg,  and  every- 
where I  have  found,  week-day  and  Sunday,  a  devotion 
only  equaled  in  Catholic  countries  like  Spain,  Ire' 
land,  or  Italy.  It  is  said  that  the  priests  arc  illiter- 
ate. Of  that  I  do  not  know.  I  see  that  they  wear 
long  robes  and  long  hair,  and  have  an  oriental  as- 
pect quite  venerable.  I  find,  also,  a  service  which — 
without  the  aid  of  organ  or  other  instrumental 
music,  but  with  the  aid  of  pictures,  colors,  and  gems, 
and  very  sweet  voices  hymning  of  mercy  and  Christ 
— is  extremely  beautiful,  alluring,  and  sacred. 

Whatever  be  their  doctrine,  and  howsoever  it 
may  separate  the  Greek  Church  from  the  Lutheran 
or  English  hierarchy,  or  from  that  of  Rome,  it 
seems  to  be  indispensable  here  in  Russia,  as  an 
element  of  social  order,  if  not  a  necessity  for  the 
best  aspirations  of  mankind. 


THE  EASTERN-  CHURCH.  309 

Is  it  not  almost  anomalous  that  a  nation  like 
that  of  Russia  in  the  North — of  the  raw,  cold,  bo- 
real regions — should  have  embraced  with  so  much 
fervor  the  theology  and  dogma  of  a  Church  of  the 
Orient  and  of  the  South  ;  yet  at  every  view  of  this 
city  we  find  Athens  and  Constantinople  in  their 
aesthetic  architecture,  art,  and  traditions. 

Look  at  that  admirable  example  of  architecture 
in  St.  Petersburg,  St.  Isaac's  Cathedral.  It  has 
only  one  comparable  to  it  in  Russia.  That  is  the 
Moscow  Temple  of  the  Saviour.  It  has  only  one 
superior  in  the  world — St.  Peter's.  It  is  said  to 
be  in  the  renaissance  style  ;  but,  whether  old  or 
new,  its  gigantic  monoliths  of  red  granite  are  not 
spoiled  by  the  gaudy  and  jeweled  decorations  of 
its  interior.  The  service  in  this  church  we  have  at- 
tended, and  attended,  too,  thoughtfully  and  rever- 
ently. It  is  not  in  the  dialect  in  common  use,  but 
in  the  ecclesiastical  Sclav  tongue,  quite  musical  as 
it  is  toned  by  the  priests  and  sung  by  the  choir. 

One  could  wish  that  there  were  fewer  gilded 
gauds  about  pillar  and  altar ;  fewer  gems  of  pre- 
cious value  and  mercenary  association  ;  and  fewer 
pictures  of  unknown  saints  ;  and  that,  like  other 
similar  edifices  of  proportionate  and  simple  majesty 
and  elegant  and  graceful  porticoes,  it  relied  more  on 
these  intrinsic  elegancies  of  taste  and  superbness  to 
attract  the  worship  of  our  God  and  Saviour. 

The  place  on  which  it  stands  is  hallowed,  for 
here  the  ubiquitous  Peter  the  Great,  as  early  as 
1 710,  built  a  place  of  worship.  This  was  de- 
stroyed. The  present  structure  has  absorbed  a 
forest,  at  a  cost  of  a  million  of  dollars,  to  make  the 
piles  alone  upon  which  its  foundation  is  laid.  It  is 
a  Greek  cross  in  form,  with  one  hundred  and  twelve 


,io  FROM  POLE    rO  PYRAMID. 

pillars  of  granite.  It  is  three  hundred  and  thirty- 
six  feet  high  from  the  ground  to  the  cross,  and  its 
cupola  is  supported  by  thirty  red  granite  pillars. 
Its  cupola  of  copper  is  overlaid  with  gold,  and  as 
we  saw  it  from  Peterhof  yesterday,  although  in  a 
mist,  twenty  miles  off,  its  dome  glistened  like  a  dia- 
mond pierced  by  a  sunbeam  of  electric  dazzle. 

The  four  smaller  cupolas  are  counterparts  of 
those  of  the  church,  and  the  bronze  doors  are  mon- 
sters in  size,  but  as  harmonious  with  the  building 
as  genius  could  contrive.  Inside,  the  malachite 
columns  for  the  screen  are  thirty  feet  in  height. 
They  exceed  all  that  the  fancy  could  picture  of 
rich  yet  graceful  ornamentation.  Into  the  inmost 
shrine  we  of  the  ruder  sex  only  were  permitted  to 
enter.  It  is  a  temiple  of  itself,  and  its  precious  and 
polished  beauty  from  the  mines  of  Siberia,  pre- 
sented by  Prince  Demidoff,  have  cost  the  sum  of 
one  million  rubles,  or  half  a  million  dollars.  The 
pictures  are  equally  worthy  of  admiration. 

But  why  endeavor  with  dull  pen  on  blank  paper 
to  produce  to  the  distant  eye  these  elegant  ele- 
ments of  sacred  art  ?  Let  us  out  upon  the  cupola 
and  view  the  grandeur  of  the  scene,  lit  up  by  no 
tapers,  enchanted  by  no  sacred  song,  but  flooded 
with  the  splendors  of  the  Sabbath  morning  upon 
the  waters,  roofs,  and  domes  of  the  capital  ! 

While  below  the  incense  and  song  are  rising 
amidst  the  mystical  light  of  the  vast  structure,  we 
stand  upon  and  within  the  rotunda  over  the  great 
dome,  and  look  down  upon  the  throng  of  wor- 
shipers, far,  far  beneath.  The  hum  of  religious 
recitation  begins,  but  when  the  doors  of  the  zkoji- 
astas  are  closed,  the  chant  ceases.  Then  the  in- 
cense-bearers withdraw,  and  we  await  In  awe  the 


THE   F.ASTEhW   CUURCir. 


3" 


august  ceremony.  The  scene  chani^^es.  The  royal 
doors  are  opened,  prayers  are  said  for  the  royal 
family,  and  all  are  attentive  and  prayerful. 

Whatever  may  be  the  creed  of  this  Eastern 
Church — and  for  this  I  refer  to  the  late  Dean 
Stanley's  history — and  howsoever  it  may  differ  as 
to  the  primacy  of  the  Pope,  the  relations  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  to  the  Son  of  God,  and  in  rejecting 
works  of  supererogation,  or  however  it  may  agree 
with  our  Baptists  as  to  the  necessity  of  complete 
immersion,  or  the  oblitration  of  marriaofe  on  the 
secular  clergy,  most  certainly  its  ceremonies  are 
not  like  the  austere  Puritanism  of  the  earlier  days 
of  America.  It  may  have  its  feasts  or  fasts,  and 
use  or  waste  half  the  days  of  the  year  in  its  services 
and  sacred  memories  ;  its  outward  forms  may  be, 
as  it  is  charged,  mere  mummeries,  without  meaning  ; 
but  one  thing  must  be  recorded  by  the  tolerant 
observer,  viz.,  that  its  worship  seems  to  enthrall 
its  devotees.  It  exceeds  all  the  expectations  which 
we  had  formed  of  this  or  of  any  other  form  of 
faith  on  reading  the  history  of  its  establishment 
and  the  manual  of  its  rites. 

When  we  think  of  the  inner  idea  of  this  and 
other  forms  of  Christian  belief  which  consist  of 
bestowing  the  beatitudes  on  those  who  do  good 
and  make  sacrifice  of  self  and  passion  for  the  glory 
of  God,  and  then  gaze  upon  its  grand  cathedral  in 
this  capital  of  autocracy,  we  cannot  refuse  to  pay 
the  tribute  which  Hawthorne  pays  to  our  Christian 
faith,  when  he  likens  it  to  a  grand  cathedral,  with 
divinely  pictured  windows.  "Standing  without,  you 
see  no  glory,  nor  can  possibly  imagine  any ;  stand- 
ing within,  every  ray  of  light  reveals  a  harmony  of 
unspeakable  splendor." 


312  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

Since  writinsf  the  forefroiner,  "vve  have  come,  in 
these  middle  days  of  August,  to  the  sacred  capital 
of  the  Greek  Church,  Moscow.  We  have  been 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  Prince  Dolgorouki,  uncle 
to  the  late  Czar's  second  wife.  This  Prince  is 
a  lineal  descendant  of  that  Prince  Dolgorouki 
who  was  the  son  of  Vladimir  Monomachus — how 
Greek ! — the  founder  of  this  city  of  Moscow,  in 
1 147. 

V/hat  ravages  Moscow  has  had  from  Tartar, 
Pole,  and  Frank!  What  fires,  from  1536!  What 
thousands  have  perished  here  by  flame  and  sword, 
by  pestilence  and  famine,  not  to  speak  of  the  grand 
national  holocaust  in  181 2,  when  its  governor, 
Count  Rostoptchin,  sixty-nine  years  ago,  gave  it  to 
the  fiery  elements  in  preference  to  the  French.  All 
this  is  a  part  of  the  illustrated  editions  of  the  life 
of  Napoleon  and  of  the  Greek  hierarchy. 

Immediately  across  the  street  where  I  write,  in 
Labiarika  Street,  the  scene  was  enacted  by  the 
governor,  in  181 2,  of  giving  up  to  the  fury  of  the 
Moscow  mob  the  innocent  son  of  a  merchant,  as 
the  supposed  traitor  who  had  delivered  Moscow  to 
the  French.  What  a  wild  rush  they  made,  these 
Russians,  when  they  found  that  their  sacred  city 
was  devoted  to  the  God  of  Fire  !  Bull  Run,  as  it 
came  into  Washington,  in  1861,  I  saw;  but  the 
comparison  between  that  flight  of  untrained  pa- 
triots and  that  of  the  multitude  on  their  way  to 
*  Vladimir  from  the  invasion  of  the  French  utterly 
fails.  There  never  was  a  scene  in  history  to  com- 
pare with  it,  unless  it  be  the  flight  of  that  Tartar 
tribe,  as  delineated  by  De  Ouincey,  under  the  in- 
spiration of  his  opium  and  his  genius. 

But  this  is  not  the  scene  that  Moscow  presents 


THE  EASTERN  CIIURCIT. 


1-^2, 


to-day.  It  is  a  city  of  religion.  It  is  the  Rome  of 
Russia  ;  a  city  of  churches,  nearly  five  hundred  in 
number.  Its  domes  of  gold  and  green,  Its  minarets 
and  pictures,  its  jewels  and  sacred  robes  can  be 
found  in  no  literature  except,  feebly,  in  the  de- 
scription of  the  Jewish  temple  and  its  grandeur 
of  ritual  and  robing. 

We  have  wandered  two  or  three  days  within  the 
battlements  of  the  Kremlin.  I  am  just  from  its 
tower  of  thirty-one  bells — the  largest  weighing  440,- 
000  pounds — and  through  its  arabesque  and  gilded 
minsters,  chapels,  and  altars  ;  and  I  say  that  lan- 
guage utterly  fails  to  describe  the  oriental  and  su- 
perlative magnificence  of  the  scenes  here  presented 
to  honor  God  Almighty  !  One  is  dazed  by  the  con- 
fusion of  the  outside,  with  its  Byzantine  and  other 
orders  of  architecture  ;  and  when  it  comes  to  going 
within  the  penetralia  of  this  seat  of  the  many  tem- 
ples of  the  patriarchs  and  people  of  this  Eastern 
Church,  we  are  in  w^onclering  mazes  lost. 

These  churches  in  the  Kremlin  are  the  nucleus  of 
what  seems  on  the  map  a  spider's  web  of  streets  and 
buildings.  The  river  makes  a  half  dozen  curves 
through  the  city  and  its  walls  and  houses  ;  but, 
above  all,  high  and  aloof,  shines  In  splendor  that 
picture  which  Bonaparte  saw  from  the  Sparrow 
Hills,  before  he  entered  the  doomed  city  ! 

But  how  can  I  describe  this  Kremlin,  this  home 
of  sacerdotal  dignitaries,  fighting  boyars,  and  "  ter- 
rible "  kings,  with  its  churches,  gates,  towers,  and 
walls?  Yonder  is  the  Tower  of  Ivan,  with  Its  bells 
on  bells,  until  one  is  crazed  with  the  idea  of  the 
silvery  brazen  noises  they  could  make  if  In  full  dia- 
pason. 

There,  in   its   ruin,  lies  the  King  of   Bells,  dis- 

14 


314 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


tracted  with  the  fatal  fires  and  calamities  which 
have  surrounded  it  since  the  Middle  Ages,  when 
it  was  first  cast.  There,  too,  is  the  palace,  with 
its  crowns  and  jewels  ;  its  pictures  and  trophies  ; 
its  halls  of  state  and  its  crypts  of  religion  ;  its 
courts  of  gold  and  its  steps  of  blood ;  its  thrones, 
wardrobes,  insignia,  flags,  keys,  images,  relics, 
charters,  gifts,  and  treasures  !  These  are  of  the 
past.  They  are  the  residuary  radiance  of  a  thou- 
sand years  of  memory. 

Is  this  religion  all,  all  vain  ?  Are  there  no  signs 
of  its  advancement  in  the  affections  of  its  children  ? 
What  is  its  last  phase,  either  in  ceremony  or  archi- 
tecture, in  faith  or  fig^ht  ? 

Pondering  these  things  we  perceive  a  dome  of 
resplendent  lustre.  It  is  outside  the  Kremlin.  Be- 
fore its  gilded  glory  all  the  green  and  yellow  of  the 
faded  spires  and  crosses  and  domes  fade  afresh.  It 
is  "  The  Temple  of  the  Saviour."  Its  fame  had 
reached  us  at  St.  Petersburg.  It  is  the  peer,  at 
least,  of  St.  Isaac's,  but  of  a  more  beauteous  type, 
and  of  a  make,  genius,  and  loveliness  more  lumi- 
nous. It  is  not  yet  dedicated.  Can  we  see  it? 
Within  the  first  hour  of  our  entrance  within  this 
city  we  send  to  our  consul  to  answer  this  query. 
He  answered  it  in  person.  The  answer  was  as 
courteous  as  it  was  substantial.  It  was  from  Prince 
Dolgorouki  himself.  It  was  a  written  permit  for 
the  writer,  spelled  in  Russian  ''  Koxcz!'"  and  ten 
others.  Were  these  ten  ready  ?  Yes  ;  adding 
Californians,  twelve.  We  assembled  at  r  r.  m.  at 
the  door  of  the  Temple.  Our  two  extra  tour- 
ists nearly  cost  us  our  pleasure.  Our  guide  was 
about  to  tender  two  extra  rubles,  when  lo  !  the 
local  police  and  some  Russian  soldiers,  and  much 


THE   EASTER.y  CHURCIT. 


315 


inflammatory  talk.  An  hour's  lialt  and  bil^ljlc  on 
the  steps  of  this  cluirch,  so  white  and  heautiful  ! 
Much  trouble  and  much  intervention.  Soldiers,  cus- 
todians ;  but  no  priests.  Our  guide  is  arrested. 
Several  tears  come  to  his  eyes.  He  is  mortified, 
surprised.  "  Can  I  not  offer  two  rubles  without  a 
charge  of  bribery  in  Russia  ?  "  Alas  !  too  many 
mercenaries  are  about.  We  are  a  dozen  strong  ; 
but  the  great  and  Beautiful  Temple,  which  we  had 
done  so  much  to  see,  is  about  to  be  closed,  and  to 
our  apostolic  number.  My  wife  insists  that  we 
stand  by  our  guide.  I  stand  by  my  wife.  We  all 
do.  Out  comes  a  gallant  man,  the  main  angel  of 
the  precious  Church  Beautiful.  He  asks  my  card. 
All  say  :  "  Put  down  your  name.  Congressmen  are 
respected  in  Russia,  if  from  America  !  "  I  write 
the  magical  "  open  sesame.''  We  enter.  The  guide 
is  with  us. 

Was  there  ever  on  our  orb  such  a  beatific  splen- 
dor? Is  it  painting?  It  is  there.  Is  it  sculpture 
or  relief  ?  Outside  and  inside.  Is  it  saint,  angel. 
Saviour,  or  martyr  ?  Is  it  a  scene  in  dramatic  rela- 
tion, or  lyric,  historic,  or  tragic?  It  is  here  and  all 
luminous  under  gold-shine,  and  silver-glitter,  and 
the  glory  of  azure  sky,  and  the  all-prismatic  sun. 
Forty-two  years  of  Russian  art,  as  clear  and  clean 
as  if  out  of  the  crystal  palaces  of  the  Empyrean. 
And  then  such  altars  and  precious  art  !  Not  gaudy 
with  common  ruby,  sapphire,  turquoise,  and  dia- 
mond— pah  !  these  are  stale  and  flat ;  but  all  is 
lucent  and  beatific  and  beyond  all  the  dreams  and 
phases  of  fancy,  or  the  ecstasies  of  saintly  re- 
ligion. 

The  grounds  outside  were  in  form  a  Greek  cross. 
The  church  is  in  similar  form.     It  is  as  large  nearly 


3i6  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

as  St.  Isaac's,  or  St.  Paul's  in  London.  The  dome 
is  exquisite  and  sublime  ;  sweetness  with  light. 
Light,  light  everywhere,  in  its  richest  radiations 
and  rainbows,  and,  under  its  most  exquisite  spec- 
tral analysis,  beyond  the  reaches  of  art,  poetry,  or 
description. 

And  this  is  the  religion  of  Russia,  outwardly ! 
These  are  the  saints  of  a  thousand  years,  whose 
images  are  so  worshiped  by  royal  and  rugged 
alike  !  These  are  the  influences,  for  good  or  ill, 
that  are  preparing  a  future  for  eighty  millions  of 
subjects  of  a  great  empire  \ 

We  go  soon  toward  Constantinople,  the  seat  of 
the  Eastern  hierarchy,  where  St.  Chrysostom  gave 
to  the  wo'ld,  from  golden  lips  and  with  a  Hymet- 
tian  honey  sweeter  than  the  philosophy  of  the 
Academy,  the  Gospel  of  good  tidings,  of  which 
these  Greek  churches  are  the  outcome  in  the  after- 
noon of  the  nineteenth  century. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

LEAVING   MOSCOW— ON   TO  ODESSA-IMMENSE   GRAIN 
FIELDS  AND   LONG   LEVELS— FREEDOM    OF   TRADE. 

Life  runs  its  rounds  of  living,  climbing  up 

From  mote,  and  gnat,  and  worm,  reptile  ana  fisli. 

Bird  and  shagged  beast,  man,  demon,  deva,  God, 

To  clod  and  mote  again  j  so  are  we  kin 

To  all  that  is.  — Edwin  Arnold. 

MOSCOW,  as  you  see  it  from  its  towers  or  on  a 
plat,  is  like  a  spider's  web.  Its  streets  radiate 
from  and  unite  about  the  Kremlin  battlements. 
Like  the  web,  it  has  many  a  mesh  for  the  unwary, 
and  from  its  labyrinths  it  is  hard  to  be  disentangled. 
With  the  aid  of  our  consul  and  a  guide,  not  to 
speak  of  the  Belgian  host  of  the  Hotel  Billo,  who 
prepared  our  passports,  we  left  this  ancient  home 
of  patriarchs  and  Czars  ;  and  not  without  that  in- 
definable fear  of  that  "  John  the  Terrible,"  who  is 
even  yet  its  tutelary  genius,  or  of  some  of  his  de- 
scendants and  servitors,  we  retreated  from  Mos- 
cow— like  Napoleon  in  1812 — somewhat  discom- 
fited even  by  our  success.  My  wife  was  under  the 
Moscow  weather,  and  it  was  with  much  trepidation 
that  we  started  on  the  long  journey  to  Odessa. 
However,  there  is  but  oneway,  and  that  by  prompt 
decision  and  railroad,  out  of  Moscow.  Bidding 
adieu  to  our  incomplete  plans,  to  sacristies,  libra- 
ries, universities,  and  monasteries  unvisited,  and 
to  gardens,  palaces,  parks,  and  museums  but  half 

317 


3i8  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

investigated  ;  leaving  its  archaeology  and  theology 
but  dimly  studied,  but  with  the  one  ever-beauteous 
white  vision  of  the  *'  Temple  of  the  Saviour" — the 
finest  edifice  ever  built  by  man  or  genii,  in  dream 
or  in  fact,  not  excepting  the  Temple  of  Solomon — 
we  prepare  to  depart.  With  all  our  failures  here 
— or,  as  some  poet  has  it,  with  the  "  barren  mem- 
ory of  unkissed  kisses  " — yet  clad  in  a  rich  robe, 
all  jeweled  and  embroidered  with  precious  experi- 
ence, we  reluctantly  take  our  last  looks.  Pardon 
the  enthusiasm,  for  Moscow  is  the  concentrated 
focus  of  fifty  millions  of  Russo-Greek  religionists. 
Its  Kremlin  is  the  burning  centre  of  that  focus. 
Our  farewells  seem  to  linger  in  its  radiance  as  in  a 
trancing  and  unearthly  light.  But  are  we  not  going 
out  of  Russia — political,  autocratic,  spying  Russia  ? 
What  a  respite  ! 

The  entire  journey  from  St.  Petersburg  to 
Odessa — from  the  north  to  the  south  of  this  em- 
pire in  Europe — is  one  thousand  four  hundred  and 
forty-one  miles.  There  is  a  shorter  route  by  way 
of  Belostok,  but  our  chosen  route  is  of  much  more 
interest.  To  Moscow  is  about  one-third  of  this 
route  ;  and  we  find  ourselves  at  its  depot  about 
noon,  for  a  journey  of  two  days  and  two  nights 
further  on. 

Our  guide,  Mr.  Bergemann,  was  born  in  New 
York.  He  speaks  tolerable  English,  being  a 
Swede,  and  a  resident  here,  where  years  ago  he 
came  with  his  father,  who  has  helped  decorate 
the  palace,  being  a  skilled  worker  in  brass.  He 
delivers  us  at  the  station.  There  we  m_eet  the 
consul,  who  kindly  introduces  us  to  Mr.  Janis- 
kowsky,  a  Pole,  the  superintendent  of  the  road, 
and  to  an  American,  Mr.  Lerce,  of  Baltimore,  who 


MO  SCO  I  r    TO   ODES'^A.  2>\0 

is  in  charge  of  the  roHIng  and  otiicr  stock  He 
came  out  here  with  Messrs.  Winans,  wlio  buiU  th(i 
road,  many  years  ago.  The  guide  bought,  with 
our  own  tickets,  one  for  himself,  as  he  was  to  go 
with  us  part  of  the  journey.  What  was  his  sur- 
prise when  he  was  ordered  by  the  poHce  not  to  go ! 
He  had  no  passport.  The  authorities  keep  up 
their  espionage  from  town  to  town.  Then  came 
the  tug  to  get  our  fifty  rubles  back,  which  was  the 
price  of  his  ticket.  This  was  done,  however;  and, 
after  much  worry,  we  were  housed  in  a  first-class 
car,  without  a  word  at  our  command  to  reach  the 
servants  of  the  road. 

"■  It's  right  good  to  see  you,"  said  the  genial 
Baltimorean.  "  I've  been  twenty-five  years  from 
home,  and  to  see  an  American,  why  it's  glorious  !  " 

I  never  felt  how  useful  "  the  party  "was  till  thus 
saluted. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  added,  "  just  look  at  that 
bull's-eye  of  mine  !"  pointing  to  a  locomotive  that 
was  creeping  up  to  hitch  to  our  train  ;  "  and  don't 
forget,  half  a  mile  from  here,  right  side,  to  keep 
a  good  look-out  for  a  house,  boarded  up.  It's  the 
place  where  the  dynamite  mine  was  laid  for  the 
Czar  a  year  ago  last  December,  and  which  the 
police  are  still  working  up." 

"  Were  you  along?"  my  wife  inquires. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  he  responded  in  the  Baltimore 
dialect,  which  came  over  me  like  the  sweet  South 
over  a  bed  of  violets.  "  Came  near  going  up, 
madam — missed  their  man  though, — struck  a  bag- 
gage train.  Can't  reform  here,  or  anywhere,  by 
forcing  it  with  dynamite.  No,  madam.  Good- 
by  !  "  And  the  bull's-eye  tackled  the  train,  and 
away  we  sped  over  the  fateful  ground  and  past  the 


320 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


famous  spot  where  Hartman  and  Sophie  Petrosky, 
and  other  Nihilist  companions  of  the  mine,  en- 
deavored, through  great  risk  and  endurance,  to 
reform  by  dynamite.  There  was  not  much  to 
mark  the  place,  for  it  is  obliterated  "  as  a  damned 
spot."  There  was  not  even  a  sacred  chapel,  such 
as  we  see  over  the  fatal  locality  in  St.  Petersburg. 
But  the  Nihilist  object  was  in  part  attained.  Fear 
blanches  the  royal  cheek  at  every  turn.  The 
Czar  was  not  particular,  in  his  visit  here  last  week, 
to  advertise  his  journey  or  his  places  of  visit  and 
rest.  Threats  of  mining  the  churches  he  visited, 
threats  against  his  wife  and  children,  threats  as  to 
the  coronation  next  year,  threats  in  epistles  laid  in 
stealth  by  unknown  hands  upon  the  tables  in  the 
rooms  where  he  slept,  threats  in  the  air,  and  a  feel- 
ing of  suppressed  and  choking  apprehension  every- 
wdiere — is  it  any  wonder  that  his  wife  grows  pale 
and  his  own  familiars  are  hardly  trusted,  except  a 
few  minutes  in  advance,  as  to  the  palace  or  room 
where  the  Czar  intends  to  sleep,  what  streets  he 
will  traverse,  or  what  train  he  will  take,  or  what 
changes  in  his  triumphal  tour  he  will  make,  as 
the  father  of  Russia,  to  bless  his  dear  children  ? 

Our  railway  conductors  could  not  understand  us, 
but  we  knew  by  an  inward  feeling  when  a  buffet 
was  reached,  and  by  fingers  and  gestures  we  could 
indicate  the  minutes  of  refreshment. 

These  conductors  dress  in  a  dark  green  beaver- 
cloth,  loose  and  plaited,  with  top-boots,  and  the 
oriental  loose  pants  tucked  within  them.  They 
look  quite  elegant.  Their  manners  are  suitable  to 
their  uniform,  and  both  are  exceedingly  nice. 

After  a  run  of  a  couple  of  hours  out  of  Mos- 
cow, we  come  upon  a  manufacturing  centre,  where 


MOSCOW   TO   ODESSA. 


321 


we  cross  the  Oka  river,  which  leads  to  the;  Russian 
Missouri — the  Volga.  Even  there,  where  smoke- 
stacks appear,  there  are  grisly  memories  of  "John 
the  Terrible"  and  his  one  hundred  thousand 
Opritchniks !  '1  ula  came  next,  notable  in  these 
long  reaches  of  level  land  as  the  city  where  im- 
mense steel  and  iron  factories  are  carried  on.  It 
has  reminiscences  by  the  hundred  of  Tartar  in- 
roads and  Polish  sieges,  not  to  speak  of  conflicts 
and  conflagrations  ;  but  it  is  now  the  seat  of  skilled 
labor,  where  lathes  are  run  by  water-power  through 
vast  iron  cylinders,  for  the  making  of  swords,  guns, 
cutlery,  tea-urns,  and  other  metallic  ware,  even  to 
silver  snuff-boxes  and  bric-a-brac  of  nobility  and 
royalty.  The  mines  of  iron  and  coal,  worked  by 
the  descendants  of  Dutch  and  English  artisans,  to- 
gether with  railroad  communications  and  a  splendid 
city  of  sixty  thousand  people,  contribute,  along 
with  its  Tartaric  history,  to  make  Tula  a  truly 
royal  place  in  many  senses.  I  bring  home  one  sou- 
venir of  this  place,  a  wire  puzzle,  which  made  me 
forget  for  a  time  the  terrors  of  "John  the  Terri- 
ble," and  afforded  some  employment  to  unravel  its 
Asiatic  mystery.  Out  of  the  city,  on  either  side 
of  the  railroad  track,  down  the  embankments,  are 
peculiar  green  slopes,  strengthened  against  rain- 
gullies  by  many-colored  stones,  set  as  mosaic  in 
the  grass.     The  effect  is  unique  and  beautiful. 

Soon  we  are  in  the  open  country  again,  where 
great  areas  of  ploughed  ground  appear  ready  for  the 
winter  wheat,  and  hay-stacks  break  the  level  with 
their  frequency.  The  villages  look  like  hay-stacks, 
as  each  house  and  barn  Is  low  and  thatched  heav- 
ily. The  country  reminds  one  of  the  Pacific  over- 
land route,  except  that  here  and  there  are  many 
14* 


322 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


paddocks  piled  together  in  fields  for  sheepfolds  as 
occasion  may  demand  ;  but  the  general  cultiva- 
tion, as  far  as  the  eye  can  observe,  is  that  of  our 
prairies.  The  little  hillocks,  made,  I  suppose,  by 
moles,  are  not  so  frequent  as  those  of  our  prai- 
rie-dogs ;  but  they  remind  us  of  our  own  domain. 
The  soil,  where  ploughed,  and  where  it  crops  out, 
is  as  black  as  the  sheep,  and  in  this  it  is  a  great 
contrast  to  our  alkaline  plains.  We  perceive,  as 
far  as  the  horizon's  verge,  immense  fields  of  grain 
and  meadows  of  hay,  and  these  remind  us  of  Cali- 
fornia and  its  golden  grain  grounds  of  recent  date. 
Black  sheep  and  pied  cattle  are  common.  Some 
of  the  fields  are  in  flower.  What  can  it  be?  Buck- 
wheat, and  in  such  a  width  of  acreage  !  These 
scenes  before  our  first  nightfall  exemplify  our 
whole  way  to  Odessa,  with  some  variations. 

These  variations,  however,  do  not  weaken  the 
impression,  most  emphatic  and  prolonged,  pro- 
duced by  iterations  and  alternations  of  golden 
grain  with  greenest  meadows,  both  alive,  so  to 
speak,  with  the  sheafs  and  sheafs  and  sheafs  of 
wheat,  and  the  endless  cocks  of  hay.  Oh  !  the 
opulence  of  this  great  golden  harvest  of  Russia. 
It  astounds  one,  as  well  by  its  vast  area  as  by  the 
neatness  of  the  work.  Many  of  the  fields,  like 
those  of  France,  are  subdivided,  and  with  varied 
product  and  hue.  Where  are  the  people  who  have 
cultivated  these  prairies  ?  Are  they  housed  in  the 
villages  ?  We  see  few  isolated  farm-houses,  and 
few  of  either  sex  at  work,  and  these  seem  lazily 
wending  their  way  across  the  unfenced  and  un- 
hedged spaces. 

Now  and  then  we  paused  in  the  very  midst  of  a 
shorn  field,  a  square  of  a  tenth  of  an  acre  or  less, 


MOSCOIV    TO   ODESSA.  3,3 

where  arc  objects  that  look  hke  sections  or  stiinnjs 
of  trees,  or  seats  about  four  feet  higli.  'Ihey  are 
placed  in  symmetry,  and  over  them  some  bushes 
dead  in  leaf.  What  are  they?  We  confer  to- 
gether, for  our  conductor  gives  no  sign.  At  last 
we  begin  to  reason  :  first,  they  are  near  the  buck- 
wheat in  bloom;  and,  second,  they  are  not  stumps 
or  portions  of  trees,  for  there  are  no  woods. 

"  Perhaps,"  suggests  my  wife,  "  they  are  tempo- 
rary camping-grounds  for  rehgious  bodies." 

That  will  not  do.  Nor  are  they  for  stumpers. 
Russia  is  not  yet  popularized  for  the  sylvan  tribune. 
It  may  be  that  here  their  local  commune  or  Zem- 
stvo  meets — an  assembly  as  old  as  the  time  of  Cath- 
arine II  ;  for,  like  the  ancient  Germans  or  Norse- 
men, the  people  of  this  land  used  to  gather  in 
outdoor  conventions  by  chosen  law-makers,  the 
Witcnaofemote  of  rural  Russia.  This  is  an  infjeni- 
ous  guess,  and  smacks  of  the  shop,  but  it  will 
not  do.  Eureka  !  Is  it  not  said  that  the  ancient 
Scythians,  the  ancestors  of  these  Russian  Sclavs, 
were  celebrated  for  two  things  ;  first,  the  quantity 
of  liquor  they  could  throw  themselves  outside  of 
without  detriment  ;  and,  second,  the  cultivation  of 
honey?  a  combination  which  suggests  our  peach 
brandy  and  honey,  so  dear  to  the  Southern  heart. 
Are  not  these  hollow  squares  Bcmas  for  the  convo- 
cation of  politic  bees,  politic  because  near  the  bloom 
of  the  buckwheat  ?  Thus  we  solve  the  riddle,  the 
sweetness  of  which  is  enhanced  by  the  discovery, 
without  guide  or  volume,  and  by  pure  reason  ? 

Before  evening  we  reach  the  city  of  Orel.  Here 
Is  a  pet  town,  founded  by  that  same  John  the  Ter- 
rible. We  see  here  a  pious  man  say  his  prayers 
and  licrht  his  ciiiarette  at  the  same  time.    It  showed 


3^4 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


the  influence  for  good  of  the  terrible  founder  of  Orel. 
The  Greek  domes  shine  in  the  departing  light,  and 
the  glamour  of  Polish  chivalry  and  adventure  bathes 
the  city  in  the  dim  poetry  of  tradition.  Hemp, 
wheat,  tallow,  and  cattle,  not  omitting  holy  candles 
and  civilizing  soap,  make  Orel,  with  water  and  rail 
communications,  a  place  of  such  practical  and  unro- 
mantic  consequence  that  the  ten  thousand  carts 
which  trudge  daily  from  its  surrounding  plains  into 
and  out  of  its  precincts  are  a  fair  test  of  its  matter- 
of-fact  ways  and  business.  During  the  night  we 
observe  but  little,  except  that  there  is  no  sign  of  a 
forest  or  hill,  only  that  same  rolling  plain  of  wheat 
and  hay,  cut  and  uncut,  and  of  ploughed  ground  and 
flowering  buckwheat.  No  light  of  cheerful  home, 
no  holiday  of  happy  peasant  appears.  There  is  no 
shout  of  home-bound  reapers  ;  no  song  of  the  vin- 
tage ;  no  dance  to  the  twinkle  of  guitar  or  the  merry 
violin.      Russia  has  not  ar  happy  peasantry. 

When  the  morning  broke  the  same  perpetual 
scene,  hardly  varied  by  villages  under  thatch, 
whose  low  buildings  are  unpainted  and  unpictu- 
resque,  and  its  few  people  seem  indifferent  to  the 
great  work  already  done  or  to  be  done.  It  is 
difficult  to  translate  for  the  distant  reader  this 
huge  volume,  "bound  in  Russia"  and  ornamented 
with  green  and  gold — gold  and  green — of  this 
spacious  land,  without  repetitious  words  ;  its  leaves 
unfolding  over  and  over  in  vast  areas  with  the 
same  illuminated  capitals  of  green  and  gold  !  No 
sign  of  manures,  a  few  cabbages  and  potato  fields, 
and  a  church  and  dome  occasionally  ;  now  a  wind- 
mill, or  a  dozen,  for  grinding  grain,  now  standing 
paralyzed,  movable  with  a  lever,  to  set  sail  to 
catch  the  wind  when  it  comes  ;  now  a  woman  driv- 


MOSCOl^    TO   ODESSA. 


325 


Ing  geese  and  ducks;  some  "  commons  "  near  the 
towns,  where  cattle  and  horses  and  sheep  are 
watched  by  sleepy  people  in  sheepskin  coats  ;  and, 
again,  black  ploughed  ground  ;  the  few  peasants, 
generally,  when  seen,  in  dirty  blouses,  baggy 
breeches,  and  the  same  little  cap  and  hirsute 
beard,  with  an  exceptional  one  in  a  "butternut" 
overcoat,  and  sometimes  a  field  being  broken 
with  ploughs  drawn  by  four  or  five  yoke  of  white 
oxen  ;  but  nothing  in  all  these  outward  scenes 
adequately  shows  how  or  by  whom  this  immense 
field  labor  has  been  so  well  done  and  done  so 
quickly.  Can  it  be  that  the  American  patents 
have  been  here?  No.  Throughout  the  1,500 
miles  of  these  levels  we  saw  but  two  labor-saving 
machines,  and  these  were  run  by  steam,  and  for 
thrashing.  The  short  sickle  and  the  flail ;  women 
to  bind,  men  to  reap  ;  men  to  mow,  women  to 
rake,  and  so  on  to  the  end,  and  but  few,  after 
all,  seen,  compared  with  the  immense  work  which 
seems  to  have  been  done  by  hand.  It  was  not 
rainy,  except  for  a  few  hours,  when  we  perceived 
the  peasants  smoking  under  their  carts  and  be- 
hind the  hay-rows.  All  the  long,  sunny  days  this 
wonderful  iteration  of  the  harvest  and  sign  of  toil ; 
and  yet  how  little  to  see  of  the  calloused  hand 
and  beaded  brow  with  which  rhetoric  condescends 
to  decorate  labor. 

How  do  the  peasants  look  ?  Slovenly  ;  the  hair 
long  like  that  of  the  classic  Scythian  of  two  thou- 
sand years  ago,  sunburnt  and  almost  dirty  in  its 
hue.  Now  and  then  there  is  a  Tartar  face,  very 
like  a  Sioux  or  a  Kickapoo.  The  roads  are  not 
bad  ;  but  it  is  summer,  and  the  lumbering  carts 
tumble   along   easily   enough.     Is  there  aught  as 


326  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

yet  to  break  the  monotony  ?  Yes,  after  the  second 
day  the  flowers  begin  to  show  signs  of  the  south- 
ern sun  upon  the  meadows,  and  some  sorghum 
fields  appear,  with  busy  bees  ;  buckwheat  still  in 
rich  flower,  but  the  never-ceasing  wheat  in  green 
and  gold  remains  to  the  end  to  amaze  the  mind. 

Our  Belcrian  landlord  at  Moscow  had  told  us 
that  Russia  was  an  El  Dorado  to  those  who  would 
work.  What  if  American  energy  and  its  agricul- 
tural machines  should  take  hold  of  these  vast 
grain-fields !  Ah  !  but  the  government — let  us 
pause  !  Do  you  say  that  the  Russian  government 
itself  uses  American  ingenuity  upon  rail  and  river  ? 
Are  not  the  Russian  railroads  of  our  make  ?  And 
do  not  eight  hundred  steamers  of  the  "American 
kind  "  drive  up  and  down  the  Volga  ?  This  is  all 
so  ;  but  why  are  these  fertile  plains  weak  competi- 
tors with  us,  notwithstanding  ?  Are  there  not 
canals  and  rivers  connecting  every  part  of  this  vast 
land  as  the  arteries  of  an  immense  body?  What 
hindrance  is  there  to  Russia  rivaling  America  in  its 
grain  product?  Is  it  Russian  dearness  in  transpor- 
tation and  our  labor-saving  machines  ?  May  not 
these  impediments  be  obviated  in  time,  and  then 
where  is  our  vaunted  supremacy  ?  It  will  be  a 
long  time  before  Russia  can  compete  with  our 
grain  market,  unless  our  crops  are  short ;  not  be- 
cause of  the  soil,  for  the  Russian  soil  is  not  unlike 
that  of  our  best.  But  the  co-operation,  skill,  con- 
centration, and  economy  of  the  American  cannot 
have  a  rival.  Consider  the  Red  River  valley  of  the 
North!  It  is  300  by  50  miles,  or  i5;000  square 
miles,  which,  at  640  acres  to  the  square  mile, 
makes  9,600,000  acres.  Every  dot  of  it  is  ara- 
ble.    The    average  yield   is    24  bushels    of  wheat 


MOSCOir    TO   ODESSA.  y_^ 

to  the  acre.  Dalrymplc's  farm  of  25,000  acres  is 
a  sample  of  it  all.  It  is  divided  into  separate 
farms  of  2,000  acres  each,  and  this  division  enables 
the  owner  to  make  in  gross  $400,000  per  year, 
with  a  net  of  one  fourth  of  that  sum.  He  reaps, 
thrashes,  bags,  and  ships  his  grain  in  one  day. 
He  draws  immediately  on  his  warehouse  receipt, 
or  on  Liverpool,  where  his  account  is  kept.  A 
railroad  runs  through  his  farm  ;  and  he  can  send 
his  wheat  to  the  sea-board  as  cheaply  as  from  Ohio. 
Until  the  Sclav  can  do  this,  how  can  he  compete 
with  the  American  in  ordinary  years  ?  I  ask  this 
and  other  questions,  but  do  not  answer  them.  The 
crops  this  year  arc  abundant  in  this  vast  area.  But 
are  we  prepared  for  a  season  of  good  crops  abroad, 
or  a  bad  one  with  us  ?  Are  our  economies  and 
tariffs  suitable  for  reciprocity  ?  What  with  her 
rain,  soil,  and  sun,  her  muscle,  and  her  patient  labor- 
ing masses,  and  our  stupid  policies  of  selfish  isola- 
tion, may  not  a  change  come  over  our  prosperity  ? 
I  have  already  answered  these  queries  in  a  volume 
on  "  Free  Trade  and  Free  Land,"  where,  from  facts, 
I  have  prophesied  results  now  fast  hastening  to  a 
conclusion  which  may  make  our  farmers  open  their 
eyes  when  too  late  to  redeem  the  time  from  evil 
and  makeshift  policies, 

I  am  not,  however,  feeling  lugubrious  about  our 
future  or  present  crops,  and  their  outgo  or  income. 
Where  good  government  assures  the  harvest,  seed 
will  be  sown.  Two  weeks  ago  there  were  on  store 
nine  millions  of  bushels  of  erain  in  Chicacro,  and  on 
one  day  ;  while  about  the  same  time,  in  nine  of  our 
wheat  ports,  at  this  season,  there  were  receipts  and 
shipments  of  wheat  alone  amounting  to  one  and  a 
quarter  millions  of  bushels  !     Not   counting  flour 


328 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


and  oats,  chickens  and  cheese,  barley  and  butter, 
corn  and  cattle,  cotton  and  coal,  hides,  high  wines, 
honey,  hams,  and  hogs,  veal  and  vegetables,  beans 
and  beeswax,  old  rags  and  old  rye,  canned  meats 
and  mules  "  on  the  hoof,"  lumber,  lard,  and  liquor, 
^g'S^'  oats,  apples,  et  cetera,  have  we  not  something 
more  than  "  alliteration's  artful  aid"  to  enhance  the 
value  and  glory  of  our  American  farm  factories  ? 
Nor  do  I  care  whether  hogs  be  "  weak,"  or  whiskey 
"steady,"  sheep  "quiet,"  or  oats  "easy;"  nor  into 
what  corners  our  keenest  speculators  may,  for  a 
time,  conduct  the  market — the  outflow  from  Amer- 
ica, with  its  vicissitudes,  will  go  on  !  Who  can  arrest 
the  needs  of  our  kind  ?  When  will  the  millennium 
unhorse  the  armies  of  non-producers  in  these  lands 
of  Czar  and  Kaiser  ?  Let  economists  preach  retali- 
ation instead  of  the  old  noble  liberality  of  trade  ; 
let  FVance  threaten  to  shut  her  ports  against  our 
diseased  pork  and  cattle,  and  abundant  corn  ;  there 
is  no  power  to  turn  back  the  shadow  upon  the  dial. 
We  shall  be  compelled  to  abolish  the  exacting 
bounties  to  our  comparatively  few  exporting  manu- 
facturers, and  learn  to  buy  fairly  at  best  rates,  and 
sell  even  more  abundantly  of  the  blessings  of  our 
soil.  So  that,  while  dazed  at  the  frowning  and 
gigantic  proportions  of  Russian  fields  and  harvests, 
let  us  welcome  every  product,  whether  under  the 
dominion  of  the  Czar  or  the  star-spangled  banner ! 
With  this  cheerful  optimism  we  are  dashing  toward 
Odessa,  whose  harbor  is  as  lively  with  grain-lading 
vessels  as  an  American  city  upon  our  own  inland  seas. 
We  breakfast  at  Bersula,  and  not  far  from  Po- 
land's belligerent  border.  Let  us  be  fortified  for 
fresh  scenes  and  pastures  new.  The  scenes  are 
new,  but  not  differing  greatly  from  those  already 


AfOSCOir   TO   ODESSA. 


329 


pictured.  The  pastures  arc  not  new.  Lari^e  towns 
at  great  intervals,  and  villages  in  plenl}-,  appear, 
with  long  inter-plains,  as  before.  Some  cities  are 
passed  with  hard  Russian  titles,  and  Roman  his- 
tory, and  prehistoric  tuuntli.  Earthworks,  like 
those  along  the  Ohio,  appear,  along  with  old  bul- 
warks between  contending  and  barbaric  races  ;  Tar- 
tar relics  and  Cossack  battle-grounds,  and  proofs  of 
old  nomadic  raids  from  the  heart  of  populous  Asia, 
close  upon  the  frontier,  where  the  early  Normans 
fixed  their  limits  of  conquest,  not  to  speak  of  recent 
fortresses,  where  Pole  and  Russian  fought  for  su- 
premacy, and  Crimean  khans  contended  with  their 
conquerors.  These  serve  to  break  the  monotony 
of  wheat  and  the  blackness  of  the  furrowed  ground. 
At  last  the  Jerusalem  of  Russia,  Kief  the  sacred, 
looms  upon  our  sight  to  dispel  the  sameness. 
Its  history  is  that  of  the  Norman  knight,  and  is 
coeval  with  the  rise  of  Christianity,  when  grand 
dukes  with  Russian  names  began  to  build  churches 
and  make  conquests.  Here  is  the  Ukraine  of  the 
early  centuries — the  very  land  of  the  Cossack  and 
the  Pole — the  border-land,  where  Greek  and  Cath- 
olic made  treaties  as  to  their  faith,  and  after 
breaches  and  collisions,  and  with  many  a  wall  and 
castle,  built  by  skill  and  ruined  by  conflict,  left  to 
Kief  a  splendid  name,  only  equaled  in  Russian 
ecclesiastical  annals  by  Moscow,  and  in  secular 
greatness  by  St.  Petersburg.  We  had  a  fine  view 
of  this  town  of  one  hundred  thousand  people  as 
we  approached  it  upon  the  rail.  It  is  situated 
upon  a  noble  bluff  of  the  wide  Dnieper,  which 
is  spanned  by  a  bridge  equaled  in  no  land  and  by 
no  engineering.  Its  fortress  is  a  romantic  picture, 
which    is  photographed    forever   upon    the    mind. 


330 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


Trees  and  gardens,  monastery  and  dome,  give  to 
Kief  and  its  suburbs  a  beauty  which  reheves  our 
long  journey  of  its  tedium. 

We  feel,  too,  that  we  are  nearing  the  south, 
with  its  warm,  classic  memories  ;  and  yet  this  is 
the  seat  where  Perun,  Horsa,  and  other  heathen 
gods  exacted  their  idol  worship  from  the  earliest 
inhabitants.  Here,  too,  many  a  picture,  fresco, 
obelisk,  and  pillar  have  been  unearthed  or  un- 
whitewashed  to  revive  the  artistic  glories  of  the 
ancient  Catholic  hierarchy,  which  once  held  spirit- 
ual dominion  at  Kief,  as  its  source,  centre,  and 
capital.  In  its  monasteries  and  churches  are  mon- 
uments of  Mazeppa,  the  far-famed  Hetman  of  the 
Poles ;  while  outside  these  sacred  buildings,  or 
from  their  roofs  of  green  and  red,  rise  gilded 
domes  like  those  which  make  Moscow,  like  Mem- 
non,  musical  with  the  celestial  harmony.  Inter- 
esting, too,  are  the  Catacombs  of  St.  Anthony,  in 
the  excavations  of  the  limestone  cliffs  which  we 
perceive  hanging  above  the  broad  Dnieper.  Pass 
within  their  torch-begrimed  caves,  and  you  will  see, 
horror  of  horrors  !  not  John  the  Terrible,  for  we 
have  left  him  to  the  rear  ;  but  human  bodies  in 
open  coffins  arranged  in  niches,  and  dressed,  these 
cadavers,  in  costly  garments  !  You  may  kiss,  if 
inclined,  their  bony  fingers.  Their  names  are 
written,  with  their  virtues,  over  their  several  sep- 
ulchres. Some  of  these  martyrs  had  immured 
themselves  when  alive,  leaving  apertures  to  re- 
ceive their  food,  until  nature  gave  them  final 
respite.  It  is  said  that  two  hundred  thousand  pil- 
grims annually  visit  these  horrific  wonders  of  this 
wondrous  religious  land.  This  is  a  fit  spectacle, — in 
a  city  where  the  persecutions  of  the  Jews  have  been 
cruel,  beyond  even  their  martyrdom  in  history  ! 


MOSCOIV   TO   ODESSA.  ,,j 

Let  us  away  again  to  the  plains,  for  tlic  frcsli  air 
is  already  laden  with  saline  salubrity  from  the  IMack 
Sea.  Thistles  indicate  a  less  fruitful  soil  ;  and 
the  soro-huni  grows  in  sparser  rows  and  of  smaller 
size.  A  few  strange  birds — storks — stand  about 
observing  the  peasants  garner  the  grain.  They 
are  picking  up  a  living,  undisturbed  by  gun  or 
boy,  in  places  where  the  thrashing  is  being  done. 
The  air  is  clouded  with  multitudes  of  little  birds, 
who  make  their  feasts  off  the  harvest.  Another 
bird,  quite  peculiar  by  its  platitudinous  and  digni- 
fied style,  contrasts  with  the  twittering  vivacity  of 
the  little  ones.  It  is  a  large  white  bird  with  a 
black  tail.  It  struts  about  with  the  consequence 
of  a  czar  or  a  senator,  amidst  the  millions  of  lesser 
birds  which  people  the  fields  and  air. 

Everywhere  the  cultivation  of  Muscovite  aes- 
thetics is  apparent  as  we  progress  toward  Odessa. 
It  is  the  sunflower,  in  garden  and  on  plain,  in 
groups  and  in  isolation — everywhere  it  turns  its 
broad,  coarse,  good-natured  face  to  the  sun.  We 
ask  our  Russian  companions,  with  whom  we  are  be- 
ginning to  exchange  French,  what  object  has  this 
tiower  here  ? 

"  Oh  !  it  is  for  the  children,"  they  respond. 
"  They  eat  the  seeds,  and  grow  fat  on  the  oil." 

We  are  happy  in  the  information,  for  it  is  a 
relief  to  see  any  variety  of  cultivation,  floral  or 
otherwise,  on  these  ranges  of  land.  The  aesthete 
of  London  may  be  long-haired  like  the  Russ,  and, 
like  him,  worship  flowering  saffron,  but  he  is  at 
least  the  object  of  fun,  if  not  funny  himself  ;  but 
throughout  this  vast  expanse  of  meadow  and  field 
there  is  no  merriment,  objective  or  subjective,  per- 
ceivable, such  as  the  haymakers  and  peasants  of 
England  and  other  lands  are  wont  to  indulge  in  ! 


332  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

Are  the  Russian  peasants  only  to  be  stirred  by  their 
grain  brandy  into  maudlin  flashes  of  vivacity  ? 
Where  is  the  happy  peasantry,  their  country's  pride, 
such  as  the  poetic  license  of  the  English  bard  de- 
scribes, "swarming  o'er  the  jovial  mead,"  youth 
and  maid,  stooping  age  and  prattling  infant,  add- 
ing the  aroma  of  good  humor  to  the  "  rural  smells 
of  the  russet  haycocks  ?  "  Russia  may  be  indeed, 
as  Thomson  sings,  wide  from  dale  to  dale,  but 
we  have  heard  from  the  thousand,  thousand  fields 
we  have  seen,  from  the  Neva  to   the  Euxine,  no 


"  Of  happy  labor,  love,  and  social  glee  !  " 

I  would  rather  have  the  clattering  fun  of  a 
thrashing-machine  than  the  dead  monotony  which 
makes  the  peasant  and  his  land — a  part  of  the 
earth,  earthy.  This  remark  is  limited  to  the 
peasantry  whom  we  saw  on  the  route.  What  they 
may'do  on  occasions  when  off  duty  and  on  pleas- 
ure bent,  we  cannot  determine. 

One  thing  in  closing  ;  and  that  is  that  we  found 
genial  companions  in  travel  before  we  reached 
Odessa,  who  were  most  anxious  to  assist  us.  Es- 
pecially do  I  remember  with  pleasure  an  engineer, 
going  to  Bulgaria  to  enter  upon  the  new  railroads 
there  projecting.  He  handed  me  his  card  at  part- 
ing. On  one  side  it  was,  Charles  D.  Schoultz  ;  on 
the  other,  "  Margaret  and  George,"  or  "  Carl — 
Constantinovitch."  I  asked  for  the  interpretation 
of  the  mystery.  It  was  simple — the  names  of  his 
father  and  mother,  of  pious  memory,  thus  honored 
constantly  by  the  son,  ''  that  his  days  may  be  long," 
which  we  devoutly  pray  ! 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

ODESSA— OUT    OF    RUSSIA— STEAMERS     IN    PORT— AFLOAT 
ON  THE  EUXINE— GLIlMPSES  OF  THE  BOSl'HOKUS. 

Othus.    Tliis  superb  successor. 
Of  the  earth  mistress,  as  thou  vainly  spcakcst. 
Stands  midst  these  ages  as,  on  the  wide  ocean. 
The  last  spared  fraoincnt  of  a  spacious  land, 
That  in  some  grand  and  awful  ministration 
Of  mighty  nature  has  engulphcd  been  ; 
Doth  lift  aloft  its  dark  and  rocky  cliffs 
O'er  the  wild  waste  around,  and  sadly  frowns 
In  lonely  majesty."         — Constantine  Paleologus. 

'T^HE  Black  Sea,  or  Euxine,  has  a  bad  name.  Al- 
though Greek  scholars  have  quarreled  over  the 
p  lilology  of  the  word,  whether  it  mean  hospitality 
or  otherwise,  we  find  it  serene  and  debonair  so 
much  so  that  it  utterly  refuses  to  rhyme  with  the 
sickening  Saxon  with  which  Childe  Harold  mated  it. 
It  is  a  good  day  in  two  senses.  It  is  the  Sab- 
bath, and  the  sky,  sun,  and  sea  unite  to  make  writ- 
ing as  easy  as  it  is  pleasant.  It  is  a  good  day — to 
resume  the  threads  of  our  Muscovite  experience. 
But  it  is  due  to  a  sea,  so  anathematized  by  Byron 
and  others,  that  it  should  be  vindicated.  The 
Sound  or  the  Hudson  never  had  a  smoother  sur- 
face or  a  more  delightful  breeze.  Although  out  of 
sight  of  land,  we  feel  that  classic  and  historic  in- 
fluences are  wafted  around  us.  There  is  a  tempta- 
tion to  forget  the  past  few  weeks  and  write  of  the 
present  associations.     This  we  resist. 

333 


^..  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

After  the  ride  over  the  ranges  of  Russian  grain- 
fields,  we  breathe  the  salt  air  of  the  sea  along  with 
the  dust  of  Odessa.  Notwithstanding  the  dust,  re- 
freshment comes  ;  and  with  it  the  desire  of  leaving 
this  realm.  We  have  no  cause  of  complaint.  We 
have  had  courtesy  and  kindness.  No  spy  has  in- 
vaded our  chamber  "No  unwinking  espionage" 
has  dogged  our  path,  but  the  feeling  of  inse- 
curity, even  in  the  Peterhof  grounds  and  upon  the 
railway,  is  not  delectable  to  pleasure  tourists.  There- 
fore our  hearts  leap  up  as  Odessa  appears  in  its 
robe  of  white  dust,  simmering  in  a  warm  sun,  for 
it  is  the  last  step  out  of  Russia  and  toward  the 
towers  of  Constantinople  !  We  have  a  good  view 
of  the  city  of  Odessa  in  passing  around  the  base  of 
the  rear  hill.  The  city  is  on  a  high  limestone  cliff 
by  the  sea.  After  manifold  anxieties  at  the  station, 
a  porter,  with  a  proper  badge,  seizes  our  light  bag- 
gage and  our  trunk  tickets.  We  follow  him  meekly, 
without  a  word,  bid  adieu  to  our  Russian  compan- 
ions, and  mount  the  carriage.  A  strange  gentleman 
seems  to  be  its  occupant,  and  he  disposes  of  our 
traps  with  sang  froid.  We.  demur  ;  in  vain.  Not  a 
word  is  interchanged  or  interchangeable.  I  protest 
in  several  broken  tongues,  including  a  few  rem- 
nants of  emphatic  English.  He  finally  master? 
enough  of  the  language  to  say  : 

"Me  vagon." 

This  was  astounding  intelligence,  at  which  I  hes- 
itated. If  he  had  only  said,  "  I  am  the  wagoner,"  or 
"the  commissionnaire,"  it  would  have  been  intelligi- 
ble. We  were  nonplussed,  till  it  occurred  that  he  had 
2is  in  charge.  Gallantly  raising  his  yellow  umbrella, 
he  conducts  the  driver,  carriage,  and  ourselves 
through  the  long  avenues  to  the  ticket  office,  and 


ODESSA— AFLOAT  ON    THE  EUXINE  335 

we  meet  an  ai^cnt  who  is  familiar  witli  I'lnj^lish. 
Our  steamer  tickets  arc  arranged,  and  we  proceed 
to  the  dock,  bound  for  Constantinople  !  After 
being  supervised  by  a  Russian  policeman  wiili  a 
sword,  and  our  passport  examined  and  mutilaied, 
not  without  anxiety  on  our  part,  we  are  introduced 
to  the  captain.  He  turns  out  to  be  a  spirited 
Irishman  —  Captain  Duncan  Thomas — all  of  the 
olden  time  !  The  best  and  bicr2f<-'-'^t  state-room  is 
given  us,  and  we  are  at  liberty — awaiting  the  hour 
of  departure — to  survey  the  city  and  harbor.  They 
are  not  Russian,  and  the  very  breeze  seemed  to 
clarify  the  atmosphere  of  autocratic  odor  and  dy- 
namitic danger. 

Odessa  means  business.  It  is  cosmopolitan.  It 
is  the  wheat  capital  of  the  world,  next  to  Chicago. 
It  has  two  hundred  thousand  population,  and  the 
refinements  of  good  society ;  nevertheless,  it  is  par- 
tially cursed  by  Czarism.  You  see  that  I  begin  to 
breathe  and  speak  freely,  being  aloof  from  the  all- 
pervading  autocracy  of*  despotic  Russia.  Odessa 
lies  between  the  mouths  of  the  Dnieper  and  Dnies- 
ter, and  has  a  history  of  classic  and  belligerent 
vicissitude.  Cossack  and  Turk,  Genoese  and  Vene- 
tian, Russian  and  English,  Greek  and  Turk — fights 
by  land  and  sea — make  up  this  vicissitude,  while 
commerce,  inland  and  maritime,  has  held  various 
sway  over  its  destinies.  Once  a  free  port,  and  even 
yet  with  evidences  of  freedom  not  accorded  to 
other  places,  with  admirable  pavements  and  superb 
buildings,  it  is  a  city  set  upon  a  hill  and  lighted  by 
the  pharos  of  commerce,  so  that  it  cannot  be  hid 
while  Russia  grows  grain  and  the  world  is  hungry. 
When  the  wheat  transportation  begins,  its  fine  har- 
bor is  choked  with  vessels.      Its  suburbs  are  dry, 


33<5 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


herbless,  and  dreary,  but  its  resources  are  manifold 
as  a  place  of  comfortable  residence  and  profitable 
trade. 

Many  years  ago  I  was  requested  to  come  here  and 
establish  the  elevator  system,  with  the  aid  of  gov- 
ernment privilege.  1  his  was  twenty  years  ago, 
when  the  grain  from  the  vast  plains  of  Russia  was 
carried  across  the  city  to  the  harbor  by  women,  in 
baskets  or  sacks,  upon  their  heads.  What  a  busi- 
ness man  Odessa  lost,  when  I  chose  to  be  ''ele- 
vated "  otherwise  !  and  how  little,  alas  !  has  politics 
gained. 

My  first  observation  was  directed  to  the  conve- 
niences of  the  grain  transit  and  lading.  The  mole 
which  makes  the  harbor  is  substantial  and  elegant. 
It  is  built  up  out  on  either  side,  so  as  to  make  a 
breakwater,  and  upon  it  the  cars  run  with  the 
grain  ;  and  out  of  them,  by  the  good  old  force  of 
gravity,  runs  the  grain  into  the  ships  and  steamers 
beneath.  It  is  not  our  plan  in  America,  but  it  an- 
swers the  purpose  of  despatch,  as  well  as  the  gen- 
eral object  of  safety,  without  storage,  however. 

It  was  a  funny  work,  as  we  entered  our  steamer, 
to  see  the  Turks, — our  first  glimpse  of  the  old  fez- 
headed  genii  of  former  mem.ories, — helping  the  Rus- 
sians load  our  craft  with  sheep  and  cattle.  We  had 
to  walk  through  a  flock  of  the  former,  and  under 
the  latter,  as  the  cattle  were  swung  up  by  a  belt 
and  dropped  deftly  into  the  hold  by  machinery. 
The  docks  are  jammed  with  crowds  of  carts,  bring- 
ing in  English  iron  for  the  Black  Sea  ports,  and 
wheat  for  the  English  steamers,  which  carry  it  to 
market,  for  the  English  do  most  of  the  trade  here. 
Stevedores  are  as  busy  as  upon  our  own  New  York 
wharves,  loading   and    unloading,  and   coaling  up 


ODESSA— AFLOAT  O.V    THE  EUXINE.  t^-,^ 

with  Cardiff  coal.  I  count  over  a  hundred  steamers 
in  the  harbor,  and  but  a  lialf-dozen  saihu-^  ships. 
Our  ship  tlies  the  eagle  of  Russia,  double-headed 
and  triple-crowned,  holding  scrolls  in  its  claws — 
not  Nihilistic  pronunciamentos,  but  royal  screeds  ! 
Flags  of  every  nation  are  seen — French,  Greek, 
English,  Italian,  Turkisli,  and  German — not  one 
American  !  The  forts  shine  on  the  cliff,  the  dredg- 
ing-machines  ply  their  work,  the  cars  thunder 
around  the  harbor,  the  grain  is  paid  out,  bales  of 
goods  are  hoisted  in  and  out  of  vessels,  granite 
blocks  for  Russ  pavement  are  piled  upon  the  dock, 
a  few  gulls  sweep  about,  and  swoop  down  for  their 
lunch  of  fish  ;  lighters  and  tugs  are  alive  ;  and  the 
vessel  we  are  to  sail  in  for  three  days  is  being 
crowded  with  animal  life,  including  other  than 
sheep  and  cattle.  \\' hat  a  motley  lot  of  people  are 
fixing  their  beds,  and  arranging  their  sacks  upon 
the  lower  decks,  between  the  bridge  and  rear  deck. 
Some  of  these  strangers  are  devotees  on  their  way 
to  Jerusalem  and  Mecca,  pilgrims  by  steam  !  The 
captain  says  that  often  he  carries  old  women  of 
seventy  and  upward  to  Jaffa,  who  have  walked 
from  remote  parts  of  Russia,  hundreds  of  miles, 
with  packs  on  their  backs,  and  devotion  in  their 
hearts,  to  pray,  if  not  to  die,  at  the  Holy  Sepulchre  ! 
The  white  cattle  are  all  in ;  the  sheep,  all  rams, 
have  ceased  their  bleatino-  the  windlasses  cease  to 
rattle,  the  whistle  sounds  ;  we  take  a  look  at  the 
palace  of  "  the  Princess "  upon  the  green  hill,  a 
glance  at  the  city  clock,  observe  the  manifold  opera- 
tions of  the  port,  and  bid  farewell,  with  a  great 
sigh  of  relief,  to  Russia  ! 

The  sea  is  like  glass.     From  under  the  awning 
upon  the  upper  deck  we  cast  our  last  look  at  the 

IS 


^^S  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

receding  land,  and  then — for  are  we  not  human  ? — 
down  at  the  composite  group  of  the  steerage.  After 
saluting  our  new  companions  of  the  first  class,  who 
are  Russian  gentlemen  bound  for  Egypt,  and  after 
an  introduction  to  the  captain's  wife,  who  goes  with 
him  to  Alexandria,  we  retire  below  for  a  free  meal — 
free  because  under  the  merry  auspices  of  a  Celtic 
host,  who  for  twenty  years  has  given  to  Russia 
what  he  could  not  to  Ireland,  and  would  not  to 
England — a  genius  for  careful  and  skilled  naviga- 
tion, associated  with  a  bonhomie  which  only  an 
Irishman  of  the  best  type  incarnates. 

On  Sabbath  the  sweet  light  melted  the  morning 
into  a  delicious  spring-time,  and  we  awake  to  catch 
its  refreshing  and  tonical  lustre  in  waves  full  and 
cheerful.  We  awake  in  some  confusion  as  to  where 
we  are.  We  have  been  under  so  many  skies  in  a 
few  months  that  we  are  not  surprised  at  any  sur- 
roundincrs.  A  rousinsf  crow  from  chanticleer  de- 
ludes  us  into  a  hazy  sensation  that  we  are  children 
aofain  in  our  old  rural  Ohio  home.  The  baa  !  baa  ! 
of  the  sheep  and  the  lowing  of  the  cattle  assist  the 
pleasing  illusion.  A  few  faint,  delicious  moments 
of  the  rosy  hours  of  childhood — confirmed  by  the 
smell  of  fresh  mown  hay,  whose  odor  turns  gently 
in  the  wards  of  memory,  to  unlock  the  enchanted 
chambers.  Nor  does  the  throb  of  the  engine  dis- 
turb the  pleasing,  dreamy,  nebulous  delight.  But 
the  reality  soon  rushes  us  into  full  wakefulness. 
We  are  indeed  afloat  on  the  Euxine,  one  hundred 
miles  east  of  the  many-mouthed  Danube,  and  not 
a  day's  sail  from  the  battle  hills  of  the  Crimea  ! 

We  seek  the  bridge,  which  the  captain  has  con- 
ceded to  us  for  observation.  Below  us  lie  in  slum- 
ber  the   gentle    yet  weary  shepherds,   who    have 


ODESSA— AFLOAT  ON    THE  l.UXINE.  33Q 

driven  these  sheep  from  inland  Russia  ;  and  the 
herdsmen,  in  turban  and  fez  cap,  are  waterin<^  UK- 
innocent  stock,  with  a  simplicity  which  a  speculaLc^r 
in  railways  might  envy.  The  people  of  the  vessel 
are  moving.  The  engineer's  pretty  daughter  is 
listening  to  the  old  story  from  the  dandily-dressed 
purser.  A  squawk  from  the  coop  tells  of  murder 
by  the  cook,  for  more  mouths  than  the  Danube. 
There  is  a  stir  anionic  the  cattle  in  the  hold.  It 
looks  like  a  mutiny,  led  by  a  long-horned  steer, 
worthy  of  sacrifice  to  Jove  !  A  herdsman  drops 
his  raw  tomato — which  he  eats  as  if  it  were  a  peach 
— and  drops  himself  down  into  the  hold,  and  with 
a  few  guttural  monosyllables  and  herculean  kicks 
the  mutiny  is  quelled.  I  feared  that  it  was  a  cattle 
disease  beyond  the  reach  of  any  art,  but  that  of  a 
diplomatic  doctor  like  Mr.  Blaine.  What  a  medley 
of  tongues,  and  variety  of  food  and  wear,  do  the 
deck  passengers  present — Russians,  Greeks,  Turks, 
and  Armenians  predominating.  Many  are  lounging 
on  pallets  of  straw  and  eating  bread  by  the  "  chunk," 
and  melons  by  the  dozen,  cucumbers  without  num- 
ber, and  a  millionaire  is  indulging  in  the  luxury  of 
cheese.  Under  the  very  hoofs  of  a  truculent  steer 
on  deck,  and  with  a  book  before  her,  stands  a 
woman  dressed  in  black,  wdth  a  gold  fillet  about  her 
black  hood.  She  is  a  devotee,  reading  and  praying, 
crossinof  and  bowinof  her  head  to  the  deck.  For  an 
hour  she  keeps  up  this  devotion.  She  is  literally 
lifted  above  the  flesh,  although  between  the  very 
horns  of  the  altar.  She  is  a  Russian  religionist,  and 
en  ro2ite  for  the  Holy  Tomb.  She  has  come  far  ; 
but  has  she  not  some  inward  light  w'hich  leads 
to  Jerusalem  ?  I  turn  to  another  quarter.  An 
Englishman,  with  a  white   veil    flowing   from   his 


340  FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 

hat,  is  making  his  own  tea,  and  drinking  it  out  of 
his  own  spout.  He  is  an  odd  person,  but  he  does 
not  strike  me  as  nice  or  reHgious.  He  strikes  me 
as  crazy.  He  washes  out  his  "tea  things"  by 
emptying  his  mouth  full  of  tea  into  them,  and  then 
scrubbing  them  with  his  pocket  handkerchief ! 
This  may  be  Anglo-Oriental,  but  it  is  not  aesthetic. 
Everybody  in  Russia  drinks  tea.  They  swill  it. 
Our  Irish  captain  says  that  his  wife  makes  it  for 
him,  when  at  home,  by  the  bucketful.  The  shep- 
herds among  the  sheep  begin  to  awake  to  their  tea 
and  duty.  One  old  fellow  that  might  pass  for  Pan, 
so  full  of  natural  animality  is  he,  arouses  in  stupor 
at  finding  himself  at  sea  !  He  looks  about  him  for 
his  "  crook,"  I  suppose.  He  tries  to  straighten  up. 
The  crook  is  in  his  back.  The  captain's  merry 
children  romp  about  the  boat  with  nurse  and  dog  ; 
the  ventilation  sails  belly  out  to  catch  the  breeze 
for  the  cattle  in  the  hold.      Not  a  sail  is  in  sio-ht. 

Directly  the  captain  appears,  all  beaming  like 
the  sun  itself,  from  his  couch.  He  is  happy  ;  is 
not  his  whole  family  aboard  ?  His  Hibernian  hi- 
larity is  catching  even  to  Russians. 

"  I  shall  call  you  Captain  Jason,"  I  say.  "  Be- 
hold your  fleece  !  "  pointing  to  the  sheep. 

"  Silver  fleece,  my  boy,  not  golden  !  " 

"  But  they  bring  gold  :  at  least  they  are  bi-me- 
tallic  !" 

With  a  laugh  all  ringing  with  silver  he  makes  a 
vessel  that  Jason  never  dreamed  of  resonant  with 
cheer.  It  is  Tipperary  dropped  down  into  its  an- 
cient Milesia.  The  Celt  is  generally  acknowledged 
to  be  of  the  Orient,  and  this  captain  is  only  re- 
claiming his  own  in  these  waters  once  traversed  by 
his  ancient  kinsmen.     Soon  appears  a  man  with  a 


ODESSA— AFLOAT  O.V    THE  EVXINE.  3^1 

tipped  up,  lon^,  broad  handle  to  liis  cap.  He  is 
Teutonic,  and  seems  to  be  the  proprietor  of  the 
rams  on  board  !  Where  will  not  the  German  i^o  ? 
Carrying  rams  from  the  plains  of  ancient  Scythia 
to  the  land  of  the  Pharaohs,  and  commanding  the 
gentle  folk  in  baggy  trousers,  big  red  sashes,  and 
red  caps  with  black  tassels. 

Walking  clown  among  the  passengers  of  the 
steerage  I  find  some  women  engaged  with  mortar 
and  pestle  reducing  the  hard  crusts  of  bread,  gath- 
ered in  the  gutters  of  Odessa,  to  pulverization,  for 
their  soup  !  Our  meals  on  this  boat  were  simply 
luxurious.  W^e  begin  upon  the  melon,  peach,  and 
grape  !  Such  grapes  never  moistened  the  mouth 
of  saint  or  sinner. 

One  more  night  on  board,  out  of  which  and 
its  comfort  we  are  aroused  by  the  engines  stop- 
ping. Looking  out,  I  see  in  the  dimness  of  the 
dawn  two  white  towers  and  liohts,  one  of  which 
goes  out,  as  if  my  look  had  quenched  it.  We  run 
up  the  Russian  ensign,  above  which  vertically  and 
ominously  is  the  pale  crescent  of  the  Moslem 
moon.  The  vessel  rolls,  and  moves  with  a  current. 
We  are  at  the  head  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  these 
towers  are  Turkish  forts.  We  must  creep  into  the 
Bosphorus  under  Sultanic  pratique  and  permission. 
Still  the  current  moves  us,  until  we  perceive  our- 
selves in  the  midst  of  other  craft,  awaiting  the 
sound  of  the  sunrise  gun,  and  the  awakening  of  the 
Turkish  officials.  Bluff  rocks  appear  on  either 
side,  not  hio^h,  and  not  with  much  orarniture  of 
green.  Yonder,  within  a  few  hundred  yards,  is 
Asia  ;  on  this  side  is  Europe,  one  end  of  Europe. 
We  had  seen  another  end  at  the  great  rock  at  Nord 
Cap,  under  the  setless  midnight  sun,  rising  a  thou- 


242  FROM  POLE    TO    PYRAMID. 

sand  feet  out  of  the  desolate  waters  of  the  Arctic 
Sea.  How  unHke  that  was  this  beginning  of  Asia 
and  end  of  Europe  ! 

"  Captain,"  I  ask,  "  is  not  this  a  small  door  to 
get  through  upon  a  wild  night  on  the  Euxine  ?" 

"  You  may  say  so,  and  when  fog  comes  along  to 
bedevil  us,  and  no  accommodation  at  all  from  the 
Turk,  it  is  not  at  all  agreeable.  We  go  mugging 
around  for  hours." 

We  turn  the  talk,  while  our  little  boat  goes  off 
to  the  Asiatic  side  for  our  "  freedom  papers,"  upon 
the  historic  memories  of  the  places  on  either  side. 
Yonder  castle,  so  romantic  and  turreted,  mantled 
with  ivy  and  preserved  with  heed,  is  the  mediaeval 
prison  of  Richard  the  Lion-Hearted.  It  is  on  the 
Asiatic  side,  and  is  worthy  of  the  finest-pointed 
pencil  of  art.  We  all  begin  to  transfer  it  to  our 
drawing-books.  "If  Richard  were  only  here  now," 
said  the  impatient  captain,  "  and  had  charge  of 
some  of  those  Krupp  guns  on  either  side,  he 
would  make  somebody  get  up  and  clear  this  ship, 
or  he  would  clear  cut  somebody.  Why,  sir,  if  the 
sun  is  under  a  cloud,  and  the  Turks  can't  see  it, 
or  perhaps  because  they  are  asleep  after  sunrise,  no 
one  ever  budges  to  help  us,' and  when  'Sunset' 
comes,  then  there's  an  end  of  all  business." 

I  did  not  tell  the  captain  my  own  pet  name,  but 
drank  in  the  inconveniences  of  the  navigation  sys- 
tem at  this  important  point,  by  which  no  vessel  can 
go  into  the  Bosphorus  between  sunset  and  sunrise, 
and  which  no  fighting  or  diplomacy  seems  to  have 
fully  remedied. 

"Why,"  said  our  irate  captain,  still  waiting  after 
an  hour's  delay  for  his  boat's  return  to  report  from 
the  Turkish  fort — "  why,  the  youngest  assistant  of 


ODESSA— AFLOAT  O.V    THE  EUXINE,  ^^ 

the  youngest  clerk,  in  that  Turkish  stronghold, 
stops  the  news  of  all  Europe — Austrian,  German, 
English,  and  Greek,  all  waiting  for  this  mail  on  my 
boat,  and  tearing  their  hair  for  it  in  the  city  below ; 
and  yet  some  snipe  of  a  boy,  in  a  fez  cap,  niust  first 
be  aroused,  then  smoke  a  cigarette,  then  swallow  his 
coffee,  then  put  on  his  official  robes,  before  he 
will  look  into  or  after  our  papers.  Once  I  did  run 
in  anyhow,  after  sunset,  but  a  conical  shot  near  my 
head  on  the  bridge  there,  whose  wind  I  got,  made 
me  more  careful." 

At  last  we  are  counted  worthy,  and  sail  down 
the  splendid  stream.  Past  the  hills  and  villas,  the 
palaces  of  ambassadors,  pachas,  viceroys,  and  sul- 
tans, hid  in  part  within  walls,  behind  which,  ter- 
raced to  the  rocky  tops,  are  rarest  gardens,  or 
shining  to  the  water's  edge  in  white  and  yellow — 
only  stopping  once  to  deliver  dispatches  to  the 
Russian  embassy,  all  alive  in  a  steam-launch  for 
our  appearance  ;  villages  on  either  shore,  where 
the  domes — not  golden,  like  those  of  Moscow,  but 
surrounded  by  gilt  minarets — tipped  with  crescent, 
are  passed,  until,  in  hushed  admiration,  the  huge 
and  splendid  round  "  towers  of  Europe  "  stand  con- 
fessed, as  I  saw  them  thirty  years  ago  !  The  vision 
of  the  three  decades  of  memory — the  most  monu- 
mental spot  on  either  continent — the  place  where 
Mohammed  lodged  his  Moslem  troops  on  European 
soil — is  here  still,  and  still  in  all  its  grandeur  and 
simplicity,  as  we  saw  it  in  the  morning  of  our  life  ! 
This  is  one  of  the  monuments  of  that  Moslem  in- 
vasion which  did  not  stop  till  Vienna  itself  was 
threatened.  To  us  it  was  more.  Then  rushed  the 
bright  succession  of  scenes,  linking  as  with  golden 
bonds  to  our   first    adventure    of  travel    in   185 1. 


344 


FROM  POLE    TO  PYRAMID. 


What  pictures  they  are  yet,  and  forever,  in  fact 
and  memory.  The  minarets  of  St.  Sophia,  the 
tower  of  Galata,  the  SeragHo  Point,  the  very  water 
and  sky,  the  houses,  temples,  and  splendors  of 
Stamboul,  Pera,  and  Scutari,  as  we  had  seen  them 
in  that  eventful  summer  of  185 1.  Even  the  dim 
hills  of  Asia,  toward  the  Prince's  Islands,  and  the 
misty  halo  around  the  immortal  brow  of  Mount 
Olympus,  and  Leander's  tower  of  white,  telling  its 
marvels  of  swimming  and  its  story  of  love,  made  us 
more  than  "  a  couple  ;  "  we  were  fourfold  in  these 
mnemonic  concatenations  linking  our  early  days  to 
these,  in  this  capital  of  the  Orient,  with  its  dreamy, 
regal,  luxurious  splendors.  Once  again  we  think 
of  the  historic  glories  that  make  the  Bosphorus 
such  a  stream  of  associations — olories  of  Persian 
armies  and  crusading  zealotry.  Cnce  again  we' 
fancy  that  we  hear  the  "shouting  of  the  captains," 
and  see  the  gilded  chariots  of  the  Persian  and  the 
mailed  horses  and  knights  of  the  West,  and  all 
the  mighty  hosts  encamping  or  embarking  upon 
these  memory-haunted  shores.  As  we  approach 
the  evening  of  our  lives,  and  the  "  dewy  fingers 
draw  the  gradual  dusky  veil,"  are  we  not  grateful 
that,  in  the  freshness  and  dawn  of  this  feeling,  we 
had  the  privilege  of  drinking  the  spirit  of  this 
golden  land  ? 

We  look  about  us  for  changes.  There  are  many, 
but  there  still  is  the  grand  city",  which  the  Crimean 
war  has  not  greatly  disturbed  since  we  were  here. 
There  is  Scutari  on  the  left,  Pera  on  the  right, 
Stamboul  in  our  front,  with  the  Golden  Horn  be- 
tween !  It  is  the  ever  new,  ever  old  beauty,  in 
site  and  celebrity,  and  never  seen  to  more  advan- 
tage than  on  this  beautiful,  breezy,  summer  morn- 


ODESSA— AFLOAT  O.V    THE  EUXINE. 


345 


Ing.  Cliangcs  there  are  to  our  mere  superficial 
observation,  The  old  Seraglio,  where  the  hun- 
dreds of  wives  of  the  Sultan,  Abdul  Mejid,  were 
wont  to  disport  themselves  in  1851,  is  burned ;  but 
the  point  remains,  and  will  remain  forever,  as  one 
of  the  pivots  of  commerce  and  policy.  Since  we 
were  here  other  Sultans  have  ruled,  been  deposed, 
assassinated;  and  palaces,  of  a  beauty  blending  the 
Frank  with  the  Oriental  style,  have  been  built  in 
marble  on  the  hills  and  margins  of  the  Bosphorus. 
There  were  over  fifty  thousand  little  boats  or 
caiques  dashing  over  the  enchanted  waters — now 
but  few.  Splendid  steamers,  with  streamers  of 
coal-smoke,  fill  the  harbor  and  run  from  the  INIar- 
mora  to  the  Euxine  Sea.  The  tall  cypress  trees 
of  the  cemeteries  have  a  dingy,  dusty  look — less 
attractive  than  before ;  the  turbaned  headstones 
seem  to  "■  tumble  to  each  other  "  in  whimsical  glee, 
and  to  have  lost  that  sober  perpendicularity  be- 
coming temperate  Turks,  and  which  erstwhile  they 
had  ;  but  the  isles  toward  the  south,  where  under 
the  distance  are  veiled  other  glories  of  sky,  sea, 
and  soil,  remain  as  steadfast  as  when  ancient  Greek 
and  Persian  saw  them  in  their  days  of  conflict.  At- 
trition and  time  have  not  destroyed  their  beauty, 
nor  even  dissolved  the  mist  which  wraps  them  in 
its  wimple  of  loveliness.  The  oars  of  the  caiques 
and  barges  flash  less  frequently,  but  with  the  old 
mode  of  rowing,  by  the  rising  and  falling  of  the 
rowers,  and  with  the  old  rhythm  made  to  tune 
with  the  Arabic  drawling  song  heard  through  these 
waters  for  more  than  a  thousand  years. 

As  our  vessel  turns  into  the  Golden  Horn  to  its 
anchorage,  the  little  boats  in  multitudes  rush  and 
clamor  for  patronage,   as   of   old.     About  us  the 


15* 


546 


FROM  POLE    TO   PYRAMID. 


flags  of  all  countries — but  our  own — are  seen.  At 
length  the  bridge  of  the  Golden  Horn  appears.  It 
spans  our  twoscore  and  more  of  memories,  and  is 
a  sign  of  changes  in  palace,  seraglio,  and  polity, 
at  which  all  the  world  wonders,  and  which  have 
made  Crimean  and  other  wars,  and  fresh  and  pecu- 
liar guarantees  necessary,  for  or  on  account  of 
this  unnatural  "encampment"  of  the  Turks  in 
Europe ! 

"Ah!"  says  our  captain,  "will  these  people 
never  get  out  of  my  way  ?  "  looking  at  the  crowds 
of  small  boats  and  lighters.  "  They  know  I  won't 
run  over  them,  but  who  knows  what  a  Russian 
vessel  may  not  do  here  some  day  ?  " 

He  applies  his  mouth  to  the  tube,  and  his  hands 
to  gesturing,  now  and  then  thundering  his  Russian 
brogue  to  his  own  men,  but  keeping  his  Irish  good 
temper  and  intelligent  will  to  command — till  we 
stand,  stock  still,  at  rest  at  last,  at  last — after 
thirty  years  of  varied  life,  national,  social,  personal 
— once  again  within  these  beautiful  waters  of  the 
old  Eastern  capital  of  the  world  ! 

How  we  get  ashore ;  with  what  anxiety  we 
seek  our  mail,  now  a  month  long  delayed ;  with 
what  ease  the  custom-house  officials  pass  us 
through  ;  how  the  big  burden  of  two  trunks  is 
borne  up  the  narrow  streets  to  the  hotel  by  one 
man,  not  a  beast  of  burden  ;  how  the  cries  of  the 
street,  "Fruit !"  "  Sherbet  !  "  and  "  Newspapers  !  " 
awaken  the  old  times  ;  how  the  fingers  of  mem- 
ory begin  upon  this  oriental  mystery  to  unravel 
the  old  threads  of  our  first  experiences  in  this  clime 
of  poetry  and  conflict,  only  to  reweave  them  into 
new  tissues  of  more  sober  hue — these  may  be  told 
subsequently,  when,  in  the  hospitable  home  of  our 


ODESSA— AFLOAT  O.V    THE   EUXINE.  347 

consul,  Mr.  Heap,  at  the  head  of  the  Bosphorus, 
and  under  the  wing  of  our  gallant  minister,  my  old 
friend  General  Wallace,  we  have  rested  from  our 
long  journeying.  Thither,  to  our  palace  of  Amer- 
ican delight,  at  Therapia,  we  are  urged  most  hospi- 
tably to  go  on  the  morrow  ;  and  from  its  "  grounds 
of  pleasaunce "  we  hope  to  record  in  a  future 
volume  something  to  illustrate  the  fortunes  and 
scenes  of  this  capital  and  empire  of  the  Moslems. 

We  are  on  the  threshold  of  that  Orient,  out  of 
whose  infinite  depths  wise  men  were  led  to  the 
presence  of  Him  by  whose  teaching,  life  and  Di- 
vinity, the  world  has  been  transformed,  and  by 
which  alone  it  can  be  redeemed.  Our  beacon  is 
not  that  of  the  wise  men  of  the  East — "  The  star  ! 
the  star  !  " — so  graphically  told  by  our  Minister 
under  whose  roof  we  lodge — in  his  tale  of  "  the 
Christ."  Steam  is  our  directing  genius,  and  supplies 
our  unwisdom.  From  the  West,  by  way  of  the 
Arctics,  we  journey  to  Jerusalem,  soon,  we  trust,  to 
dwell  within  its  palaces  and  study  anew  its  won- 
drous story. 


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